


Thinking of You

by SleepsWithCoyotes



Category: Saiyuki
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-02-27
Packaged: 2018-05-23 13:48:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 21,991
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6118318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SleepsWithCoyotes/pseuds/SleepsWithCoyotes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Goku gets a clue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Thinking of You

**1\. the arrival**

White was a good color for a dragon. So was green--Hakuryuu in his second form for instance. Blue, of course, had the weight of noble tradition behind it and was beyond question a very proper color for any dragon.

Brown, on the other hand, was stretching matters a bit, especially when the brown in question had begun as a runny shade of ditchwater and had dried to a cracking, smeary, nondescript grey with powdery strata of dusty tan.

When they screeched to a stop outside the first hotel they passed, the four passengers scrambled out as fast as they could, only Hakkai and Sanzo managing to look at all dignified in the process. Gojyo was almost too late, but he managed at the last second to get both feet on the ground before Hakuryuu decided to stop being a Jeep. The little dragon's wings were drooping even as they kept him hovering aloft, and if anything, he looked dirtier than before. Giving his passengers a miserable, half-reproachful cheep, Hakuryuu turned a sinuous half-circle in midair and arrowed through the nearest open window into the hotel. Hakkai winced as he heard a surprised shriek from somewhere inside.

The baggage, such as it was, lay in the road where it had been dropped.

Sanzo didn't exactly glare at the other three. Glaring implied anger and anger implied energy, and none of them were exactly bursting with enthusiasm at the moment. Not after five long, miserable days on the road--'road' in the purely metaphoric sense where trackless wastes and unmapped stretches of lonely marshland were still an option. Instead of glaring, Sanzo eyed them with the look of a man who has started to question his faith, a look twice as irritable and three times more brooding than the standard fare.

"I'm ordering a bath," he said shortly and walked away before anyone could ask whether he meant to share the wealth--or, indeed, the credit card. That it also saved him from carrying his share of the luggage was likely just a bonus.

"Well," Hakkai said, casting a rueful glance at the state of their clothes. "I suppose we'd better inquire whether there's someone in town who takes in laundry before they turn us out as vagrants."

Snorting, Gojyo did summon the energy to glare, and he glared after Sanzo before stooping to lift one of the packs. "What I want to know is why His Holiness never gets as dirty as the rest of us. I mean, he's wearing _white,_ for fuck's sake. He ought to look as bad as Jeep."

"Sure he gets dirty," Goku protested with a puzzled frown, grabbing both his own things and Sanzo's. "It's worst when it's blood, 'cause that shows up _really good_ on white." For a moment, Goku looked more depressed than exhausted.

"Yes," Hakkai said, claiming the last of the packs, "but the point is that he doesn't _stay_ dirty. Maybe it has something to do with the purity of a Sanzo."

The three of them paused to consider that for a moment, then startled passersby by bursting into uncontrollable laughter. Gojyo almost ended up sitting in the road after all, and even Goku was bent over with his hands braced on his knees, the packs lying forgotten at his feet.

**2\. creature comforts**

There were two tubs in the bathing room, and each was filled and steaming, but both of the room's occupants were sharing the one furthest from the door. It wasn't exactly a recent thing; this arrangement had been going on since they set out on their journey. Not at every stop, no--just when Hakkai was a bit slow to be his usual obliging self, or when one just couldn't wait for the help of familiar hands.

Sighing resignedly, Sanzo glanced down at the dragon lying paws-up in the crook of his arm and scrubbed harder at the flaky dirt coating every inch of the creature. It wasn't exactly how he'd planned to spend the hour he'd reserved in the bath, but he always paid his debts. If that meant helping Hakuryuu get clean after the dragon carried them through some of the most unpleasant backwaters of Shangri-La, then that's what he'd do, the utter strangeness of anything living lolling about in his arms like a contented cat notwithstanding.

_"Kyuuuuu,"_ Hakuryuu hummed ecstatically, neck draped over Sanzo's arm, paws curled complacently as Sanzo gave a careful scratch to the sensitive spots under the dragon's wings. Clots of mud peeled off under his nails and more was sluiced away as he poured steaming water from his cupped hand over the now-shining belly scales. The wings were trickiest, so he was saving them for last.

Lifting his head just enough to crack open one scarlet eye, Hakuryuu stuck out one of his hind paws and trilled prettily.

"Yes, yes," Sanzo muttered and rubbed soap between long, narrow toes that spread out beneath his fingers, claws flexing in bliss.

At least he'd been more clean than not when he climbed in, more interested in soaking than in washing. The heavy vestments were good for that much: they kept most of the muck off at worst and pretty much took care of themselves at best. If not for its unusual properties, he might have left the robe in the luggage and made do with jeans and leather, especially when advertising himself as a Sanzo was equivalent to painting a target on his back. On the other hand, like the sutra, the damn robe was practically indestructible, rips and tears mending themselves overnight.

His robe was draped over the chair in the corner at the moment, and he would swear it was getting cleaner as he watched, glimmering a little as faded off-white cloth bleached itself snowy. His jeans, on the other hand, looked like he'd been walking through the swamp they'd crossed, and the less said about his leathers the better. Considering the wreckage of the rest of his clothes, he didn't think he'd be wearing more than the robe out of here.

And considering who he'd gotten it from, he didn't think it was his imagination that his robe looked smug.

He could still remember his first meeting with Kanzeon Bosatsu, the embodiment of Love and Mercy--and Ego, and Arrogance, and plenty of other things the faithful didn't need to be troubled with. That sort of openness was apparently reserved for Sanzos, like a feuding couple who were all smiles in public but wouldn't hesitate to open a screaming match in front of the family friends. Or maybe the rest of the world was just full of suck-ups willing to gloss over anything that didn't mesh with their idea of 'holy.'

Kanzeon had appeared in the standard nimbus of light, the traditional scent of flower petals wafting from hir veils, the absolutely required--no-exceptions-allowed--aura of divine wisdom emanating from hir enigmatic smile.

And then se'd reached out a perfectly-manicured hand, pinched his cheek hard, and cooed that he looked _just_ like hir favorite nephew. The crazy old hag.

Sometimes being a Sanzo was more trouble than it was worth.

**3\. two is company**

"Look," Gojyo said, " _you_ go in. If he doesn't kill you, you can have the first bath."

"Well," Hakkai put in, fair to the end, "the second, really...or third, if you count Hakuryuu. You don't mind, do you Goku?"

Which wasn't fair at _all,_ because Hakkai wouldn't usually hesitate to take on any unpleasant task that might come up...which meant that on the rare occasions he chose to bow out, you couldn't help feeling like a first-class jerk if you complained.

Goku was pretty sure that was exactly how you were meant to feel, but he wouldn't compound his jerkdom by calling Hakkai on it. Some things you just had to accept and move on.

"Fine," he said, shoulders slumping in defeat. "But don't you dare start dinner without me."

"Yeah, but if we order now, it'll be ready when you get out," Gojyo tried with a grin.

"Only if it takes them an hour to cook," Goku countered with a smirk. "If I make it past the door, I'm going to stay in for a _loooong_ time."

"Hmph. Might improve his disposition," Gojyo muttered, which left Goku eyeing him quizzically.

"Ah. Never mind him, Goku--just go make sure Sanzo hasn't fallen asleep and drowned in there, would you?"

"Sure," Goku said, shaking his head. "But maybe you'd better feed Gojyo after all, Hakkai--he's gotten all weird."

Which hurt to say, just a little, because he _knew_ that barging in and hanging around when Sanzo so obviously wanted to be alone wouldn't improve the man's disposition in the slightest. He wasn't nearly as stupid as Gojyo liked to tease him he was, and he wasn't blind. It was just that he also knew that sometimes--not all the time, but sometimes--barging in and making Sanzo yell was still the right thing to do. What made things tricky was never knowing which time would be the right time. If he guessed correctly, Sanzo would grumble for a bit then settle down, might even let him get closer for a little while. If he guessed wrong....

He only considered giving the man a few more minutes alone for an instant before rejecting the idea entirely. As tired as Sanzo was, he really might fall asleep in the bath. At least with Goku watching, Sanzo wouldn't be in any danger.

While the others retreated downstairs and left him to his fate, Goku carefully tried the door and chose to take it as a good sign when he found it unlocked. There might not be a lock of course, but what happened when a girl wanted a bath? Maybe she stuck the chair under the doorknob, if there was a chair. Standing here guessing wasn't getting him inside any quicker, though, and if he stood here too long, Hakkai might decide to come back up and check, leaving his dinner to get cold, and then Goku would _really_ feel bad.

Taking a deep breath, he turned the knob and stuck his head in with an apologetic smile, calling, "Hey, Sanzo--is there water enough for two?"

"Three," Sanzo growled, "if it matters."

Sanzo was definitely awake, and the implied threat in his voice had gone back to being more 'implied' than 'threat,' so it was probably safe to come in. "Great," Goku said with determined cheer, "because I'm sick of all this mud. Hey, two tubs!"

"What, did you think we were going to share?"

Goku heard and ignored the scorn in Sanzo's tone, concentrating instead on the mellowed gruffness just beneath. Sanzo sounded _tired,_ the sleep-for-a-week kind that probably meant they were leaving no more than an hour later than usual in the morning, but he also sounded like the soak was doing him good. Goku, already stripping out of his dust-caked clothes, glanced over to confirm this and saw something...unusual.

Sanzo was cuddling Hakuryuu.

Goku blinked and looked again. What he saw didn't change. Sanzo, who cats looked up to as their model of disdainful aloofness, was sprawled back in a loose collection of angular limbs, cuddling the little dragon to his chest. And petting the dragon's wings while it all but melted under his fingers.

Goku knew unfairness when he saw it, but he also knew how rarely it helped to decry it. On the other hand, some things were so monstrously unfair they were impossible to ignore.

"You're sharing with _Jeep,_ " he accused, his shirt still hanging from an unconsciously clenched fist.

Sanzo just stared at him like he'd gone crazy, which helped. Some.

"Jeep's filthier than you are," Sanzo said, arching a brow that begged an explanation--but only if it was going to be a reasonable one, and if it couldn't be given swiftly and concisely, then it was best to just forget the whole thing.

"Oh," Goku said, unaccountably embarrassed, "right."

He stripped off quickly after that and all but retreated to the other tub, dunking himself under to get away from Sanzo's odd look. He wasn't entirely certain what this particular weird look meant except that it was somewhere between the standard 'were you raised in a cave?' and 'tell me you didn't just say that,' with maybe a hint of 'I'm going to pretend I didn't hear anything' thrown in for good measure.

Which was fine as far as it went--if Sanzo was going to let his outburst slide, Goku wasn't going to argue--except that he wasn't having nearly as much luck with the forgetting thing as Sanzo was. He couldn't explain it even to himself, but it struck him as deeply weird to see Hakuryuu draped across Sanzo's bare chest, the picture of draconic abandon, while Sanzo ran his fingers over the soft scales. And those scales were very soft--softer than snakeskin--the kind that made you want to pet it just because you couldn't believe that anything could be that soft. And Sanzo petting Hakuryuu--that was weird too.

Dashing the water from his eyes as he sat up, Goku glanced sidelong at the other tub, unable to help himself. Hakuryuu had turned over in the meantime, lying with his feet tucked primly under him and his wings splayed wide. Stark against the pale gold of Sanzo's skin, the dragon's neck and tail formed graceful, lazy curves across Sanzo's chest, following the contours of lean muscle. He didn't even twitch when Sanzo dumped a handful of water over him, which gave weight to the bathing excuse at least. Goku just wished the dragon didn't look so comfortable lying there. It wasn't like Sanzo would ever let _him_ do that, after all.

"Oi," Sanzo said, and Goku almost ducked under the water again before he realized Sanzo was talking to the dragon and not him. "Don't go to sleep there. You've held up my bath long enough."

Hakuryuu's cheeped reply was indistinct, as slurred as a dragon could get, but he got grudgingly to his feet and shook his wings off before launching half-heartedly from his perch. Two claws nicked Sanzo on takeoff, but Goku had gotten worse scratches raiding the berry bushes back at the monastery, so he didn't make a fuss. Sanzo looked too pleased to have the bath to himself again to care anyway.

Which didn't mean that Goku couldn't hope that Sanzo would miss the fact that Hakuryuu had just landed on his priestly _white_ robes and _sit_ on the little dragon, but that was neither here nor there.

Every once in a while, mostly when he was so miserable he wanted to die, he'd be startled by the feeling of a strong, square hand ruffling his hair. He'd look up and find Sanzo looking down at him, and the look in the man's eyes wouldn't be kind, no...but it would be _understanding,_ Sanzo's way of saying; _'I know, I've been there too; you're not alone.'_ And then Sanzo would usually smack him with the fan, but Goku didn't mind that. Sanzo smacked himself twice as hard--inside, where it stung longer--and never gave anybody the chance to ruffle his hair and tell him he wasn't alone.

And anyway, the hair-ruffling was worth any amount of fan-smacking.

Still...as nice as those infrequent touches were, Goku hadn't _ever_ been touched like _that._ Sanzo had never hugged him, never held him close--not while Goku was still in his right mind, anyway, and he didn't really count the times he'd been knocked senseless by having his limiter put back on. He wondered what it'd be like to be able to sit down right next to Sanzo and lean up against him, so close that even a human would be able to breathe in his spice-and-tobacco scent. The robes would be cool, but Sanzo would be warm underneath--even warmer if he was down to leather and denim, and warmer still if it was skin, just skin.

Thinking about being held that close by Sanzo made him feel all strange inside. It gave his heart the same happy ache he'd always had around Sanzo, but it made his stomach feel tense too, like he was hungry or something. Only he was pretty sure it wasn't really hunger, because he would never eat Sanzo, not ever. Even if Sanzos were supposed to taste really, really good.

Which was weird, when you thought about it.

"Hey, Sanzo...why _do_ Sanzos taste better, anyway?"

It was probably one of those questions that was destined to go unanswered, like how Sanzo managed to have his gun close at hand even when he was stark naked in the bath.

**4\. dinner and a show**

Hearing gunshots not only silenced the babble of the other diners, it pulled the innkeeper's suspicious eyes away from the table in the furthest corner of the common room. Hakkai knew he and Gojyo looked quite a sight, but surely the man had seen travel-stained customers before. True, not all of their party's stains were mud, but these were dangerous times.

He suspected it was only the presence of a Sanzo in a truly foul mood that had won them these accommodations at all, and in that case, perhaps a few bullet holes in the paneling were karma's way of rebuking the man for a lack of charity. And then again, perhaps it was just Sanzo letting off steam. Of the two possibilities, he had to admit that the latter seemed the more likely.

Glancing up from his plate, Gojyo paused long enough to roll his eyes between bites as he wolfed his dinner down. "Damn," he said, reaching for his glass, "and here I was hoping the Saintly One would finally give in."

Hakkai chuckled tolerantly and shook his head. "In order for Sanzo to 'give in,' there would have to be someone pushing in the first place."

"Too bad, too," Gojyo agreed promptly. "It'd do Sanzo good to get dirty like the rest of us once in a while."

"Well," Hakkai offered, amused, "you could always steal his robe."

"No way. Then everyone would want some."

"And that would be unusual how?"

"Yeah," Gojyo said, his heavy-eyed smirk pure wickedness. "But some things you want to keep for yourself."

Hakkai's glass hit the table just a little too hard as he glanced up, startled by the almost possessive slant of Gojyo's words. He'd always understood that there was an appreciation there, at least on Gojyo's part, but you could appreciate the lines of a high-bred and high-strung horse without wanting to--

Perhaps another analogy was in order.

Gojyo just grinned. "We may have taught the shrimp to share _food,_ but hey, everybody's got limits."

Hakkai gave up. Trying to decide whether Gojyo's lascivious remarks masked true intent--or indeed, trying to decide whether his remarks were meant to be lascivious at all--was as pointless as trying to will the sun not to rise. In either case, you'd only end up with a headache. It was easier by far to take the man exactly at his word and not expect too much where nothing had been said.

Hakkai wondered if this was what Sanzo meant by non-attachment, but he doubted it. Sanzo's idea of non-attachment had probably never involved knotted scarves.

"Anyway, what do _you_ think Goku's problem is? Lack of imagination or a healthy sense of self-preservation?" Gojyo asked, glancing sideways as the innkeeper made an aborted start for the stairs then apparently thought better of it. Perhaps the man was wiser than he looked.

"Well...it could just be biology." Now Gojyo was looking at him sideways, so Hakkai shrugged and continued. "Even though Goku's been alive for more than five hundred years, it can't be said that he's _lived_ five hundred years. And though he looks roughly three years older now than when we first met him, we were only guessing then when we decided he was fifteen. The point is...I don't think the age of Goku's mind or his body have anything to do with time. Right now he doesn't have the interests of an eighteen year-old, though he isn't stupid by any means. Even you'll admit," Hakkai added at Gojyo's snort, "that he's always been quick to learn something when it interests him."

"If you say so," Gojyo said, his cheerfully fond tone removing any real disagreement from his words. "Of course, that puts me in a bad place, you know."

"You mean the fact that you've been encouraging the despoiling of Goku's innocence?" Hakkai asked blandly, willing to play along.

Gojyo's low chuckle would have cured him of that notion if he'd believed it for an instant. "Nah. The fact that if Goku gets _interested_ in Sanzo, I'm actually going to feel sorry for that lousy priest. It's a real moral dilemma."

Hakkai had to disguise his laughter with a cough as Sanzo appeared at the top of the stairs, herding Goku before him at fanpoint while a freshly-scrubbed Hakuryuu sailed past them with a sleepy cheep. "Someone feed this monkey!" Sanzo was growling, and Hakkai rose from his seat at the table with a smile.

"I think it's our turn at the baths," he said mildly, ignoring Sanzo's accusatory glare. Abstinence and self-denial were all well and good, but as Gojyo had noted, a man had limits. Being kept from the bath after the week they'd had just happened to be his.

"Great," Gojyo said, rising without a second glance at the fine meal he was leaving behind. "And since you'll have your hands free for once, you can wash my back for me, right?"

Landing on the table between them, Hakuryuu swiveled his long neck to peer at each of them in turn and cheeped something quite involved before turning to finesse a meat bun from the basket. For all Hakkai knew, Hakuryuu might have been assuring him that he'd been perfectly safe in Sanzo's hands and that he wasn't to worry.

On the other hand, the dragon's little speech had sounded an awful lot like knowing laughter and more than a little bit smug. Hakkai supposed Hakuryuu had earned it. It wasn't everyone who got to claim Genjyo Sanzo as their personal bath attendant.

**5\. what dreams may**

Once upon a time, there was a philosopher who'd dreamed he was a butterfly. Apparently this had been bad for his psyche, as he was said to have suffered an identity crisis that had lasted the rest of his life as a result. The story was paraded around as a lesson in everything from the nature of Illusion to the joys of reincarnation, but Sanzo had never been able to ignore the absurdity of the situation. What was the point in getting hung up on _shape?_ You lived your own life according to your own will whether you were a man or an insect, outward appearances be damned. And if he'd been in the habit of forgetting which was dream and which was reality, he wouldn't sleep more than one night in ten.

Right now Sanzo knew he was dreaming. When he woke up, he wasn't going to be surprised that he was in a second-rate bed at a third-rate inn, or that the bed was empty except for him. There was no doubt about this at all.

Which didn't mean that he wasn't questioning his sanity, and rather strenuously at that.

In Sanzo's dream he wasn't alone. That single phrase could be the summary for more than half of his nightly visions--the direct opposite would do for the remaining half--so clarification was obviously in order. In this dream, he wasn't alone and he was naked. In someone else's bed. While they were still in it.

That alone was strange enough, not because he'd never had this sort of dream, but because his will was usually strong enough to counter them. What was stranger by far was that it was that sort of dream...and yet it wasn't. They were both stripped down to skin, but they lay perfectly still, their legs entwined but without arousal. There was a face pressed against his chest, but the questing of lips and tongue were missing. His fingers were threaded through a shock of soft brown hair, but he hadn't fisted them yet, wasn't guiding that head anywhere. They lay as close as lovers, but the animal needs of the body seemed surprisingly distant.

The strangest thing of all was that it was Goku.

_Any minute now, I am going to wake up,_ he told himself firmly, wanting to grit his teeth until they ached. His dream-self didn't seem to agree with him, though, unable to manage more than a faint frown. _I am going to wake up and this won't be happening, like it isn't happening now. I'll have a smoke and I'll be ready to travel._

Though he'd half expected to, he didn't wake up right away. He had time to appreciate just how warm his sleeping mind had apparently decided Goku would be, to note that the weight of Goku's head and one encircling arm weren't nearly as stifling as he would have assumed. He didn't _like_ having people this close, and he wasn't sure what to make of the fact that he hadn't shoved Goku right off the bed already, dream or not.

It _was_ warm, though, and he tended to be cold more often than not. It wasn't giving in if you were just using someone, right?

_Pathetic,_ he growled at himself, more determined than ever to wake. Getting his dream-self to move took a supreme act of will, and pulling away from Goku was like trying to walk through quicksand. He managed by inches, was sliding out from under the pillowed head with dogged stubbornness when Goku's arm tightened reflexively across his chest with a soft whimper of protest.

It was the sound that woke him, and he nearly rolled right out of bed before he caught himself. The bed was empty, of course, as he'd known it would be, but the room was not. He'd forgotten in the dream that he _wasn't_ alone. Usually it would be Hakkai in the other bed, but Hakkai and Gojyo had spent a suspiciously long time in the bath that evening, and he hadn't bothered trying to hunt either of them down after they disappeared. Some things he'd rather not know, much less walk in on. Which meant that it was Goku who had the bed under the window this time, his sleeping face lit faintly by the pale light seeping in through the blinds.

Goku was curled on his side, his limbs pulled up in a tight ball, and as Sanzo watched, Goku's face crumpled in an expression of abject loss. Another quiet whimper escaped the boy, but Goku lay still after that, the sorrow in his face evening out into deeper sleep. Whatever he'd been seeing, it was there and gone the way of all dreams.

_I should be happy his noise woke me,_ Sanzo thought as he sat up, brushing his hair from his eyes. Now he knew where the dream had come from, at least; he must've been on the verge of waking and heard Goku thrashing around. It didn't quite explain why he'd dreamed they'd been wrapped around each other like that, but dreams didn't always make sense. He'd once dreamed that Hakuryuu had grown as big as a house, and that the dragon had been chasing Gojyo around an ornamental garden, demanding that Gojyo explain his expense reports. It was probably symbolic of _something,_ but sometimes it was better to just let things go.

Shoving the blankets aside, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and groped around on the bedside table for his lighter and cigarettes. Goku still hadn't awakened by the time he found them, but that probably used up his luck for the morning. If he wanted a smoke--and he most certainly did--he'd be better off doing it downstairs. And if it was past dawn, then maybe the kitchen would be up and he could get some coffee. He still felt tired, every limb dragging with exhaustion, but coffee and a cigarette would put him to rights. It'd probably help him to forget that weird dream, too, which would be something of a relief.

There was all the difference in the world between a dream and reality. In the dream he hadn't been aroused at all, but his stupid body didn't seem to realize that now.

**6\. wake up call**

When Goku woke in the mornings, it was usually because he smelled food, or heard someone mention food, or because his highly-developed sixth sense told him that Gojyo was stealing his breakfast. Occasionally Gojyo contributed in other ways as well, like the times he pegged yesterday's socks at Goku's head, or stood at the foot of the bed and yanked off all the blankets--and then ran--or, if Goku was sleeping really soundly, by drawing weird things on him.

It was a good thing Goku wasn't generally a very _quiet_ sleeper, because trying to get youkai assassins to take him seriously when he was sporting cat whiskers on both cheeks was pretty much impossible.

Gojyo rarely had to worry about revenge, though, because Goku was almost never the first one up. He slept the way he ate: wholeheartedly, and as if he might never get another chance. He was pretty sure it was for basically the same reason. In five hundred years, he'd done a lot of sleeping, but he couldn't remember any of his dreams when he woke. Not one. It was as if whatever had put him in that cave hadn't wanted him to remember why, and he must have dreamed of that 'why' every night.

Things were different now. He remembered his dreams--most of them, anyway--and if they didn't always make sense, that didn't matter to him. They were _his_ dreams, and he wanted them. The best mornings of all were the ones when he had a chance to lie in bed, half asleep and half awake, replaying them in his head until he had them fixed in his mind. He didn't get the chance often, so he savored it when he could.

He wasn't certain what woke him today: the bitten-off protest he'd made in his sleep or the creak of springs from the other bed. He only knew that his instincts were screaming at him to be still, play dead--which seemed weird, because he knew it was just Sanzo waking up--but he was still half asleep all the same, and his dreaming self thought Sanzo waking up was plenty scary enough to warrant a little acting.

_Gonna kill me,_ one part of his mind was babbling, _I can't believe I_ slept _on him like that,_ while another side of him--the side that was becoming more alert by the second--poked curiously at memory with a growing sense of awe. _Wow, that was a_ good _dream._

His thoughts got tangled up after that for a little while.

_He'll shoot me this time for sure,_ as he heard Sanzo fumbling for something on the nightstand, and--

_That even beats the one where Sanzo gave me the credit card at the really_ good _restaurant,_ as Sanzo sighed quietly, scuffing into his worn old sandals, and then--

_Too bad it was only a dream,_ as Sanzo hovered briefly by the door and quietly went out.

It was safe to open his eyes again, but suddenly he felt bad about keeping them closed. What if Sanzo had had a bad dream and wanted to talk? Sure, it had never happened before, but it could, and with Hakkai off doing who- _wanted_ -to-know-what with Gojyo, that didn't leave Sanzo many options. And it wasn't like him to play dead around Sanzo in the first place.

_But he'd have killed me if he knew I'd--_

But he hadn't, had he? It was just a dream.

Goku sighed a little himself as he opened his eyes and uncurled his limbs, rolling over onto his stomach and propping his chin up on his fists. In the dream he and Sanzo had been sleeping in the same bed, in a tangle of limbs like a pile of cats, and it had been just as warm as he'd suspected it would be. He'd had Sanzo's fingers combed into his hair again, but it wasn't just a quick ruffle-then-gone. They'd stayed like that for _ages,_ and he wouldn't have minded staying like that for...well, forever.

Habit urged him to commit this dream to memory like all the others, but it wasn't really necessary. This one was already branded in his mind, but he played it over anyway, wanting to bring back that feeling of closeness for as long as he was allowed. What he remembered best was how neatly they'd fit together, his head resting comfortably on Sanzo's chest, the steady rasp and rhythm of Sanzo's breath and his heart echoing in Goku's ear. He'd pretty much give anything to be able to do that for real, to have his cheek pressed close and warm against Sanzo's skin.

Distracted, Goku squirmed a little to get comfortable then froze, breath catching his throat, as...as....

Something. Something different.

Nearly cross-eyed with concentration, Goku wriggled his hips again, paused to consider, and then _thrust._

_Oh my gods,_ floated disconnectedly through his mind, higher thinking on the verge of becoming a myth as his body took the bit in its teeth and continued to move on its own. It vaguely occurred to him that he owed Gojyo an apology. He couldn't quite bring himself to care. He didn't know whether he should stop or keep going or whether the point was about to become moot, but he didn't care about that either. He was too caught up in the moment, overwhelmed by unfamiliar sensation and by the thoughts that kept looping through his head, Sanzo's touch, Sanzo's skin, Sanzo--

Everything snapped into place all at once as he stilled with a jolt, his mind suddenly clear as glass, and ringing. He'd been thinking about Sanzo, but not the way he usually did. They way _Gojyo_ would, maybe--

Hearing his own growl--low and deadly and fierce--rip spontaneously from his throat made him scramble up onto his knees, clutching the sheets in both fists, eyes wide. He wanted to reach up and make sure his limiter was still on, but he knew it was. That was part of what scared him.

Taking a deep breath, he banished all thought of Gojyo from his mind. Thus calmed, he then made himself look down and...yeah, it was pretty much what he'd suspected. He'd gotten hard. For the first time ever. Thinking about _Sanzo._

"He's going to kill me," he whimpered out loud, but it was too late to worry about that now. The rest of the inn was starting to wake up, and he knew this because somewhere out there, Gojyo was stealing his breakfast.

**7\. breakfast of champions**

"You know," Gojyo said offhandedly, "if that kid doesn't get down here soon, this food's history."

Sanzo glanced up and eyed him briefly from over the top of his newspaper, which was exactly what Gojyo had been aiming for. You just couldn't start the day off right without your morning dose of Sanzo's patented 'talk to morons and you're never surprised' glare.

It didn't net him any information, though, and he was pretty sure there was a story to be had. Even a hint would be good. All he knew was that when he'd come down for breakfast, he'd found Sanzo staring off into space with the weirdest look on his face, like maybe he'd started picking up the godly gossip channel through that fashion statement branded on his forehead. It probably wouldn't turn out to be anything that interesting, but _something_ had definitely smacked Sanzo between the eyes this morning, and if there was any justice in the world, that something was a rechargeable monkey who'd sort out the sleeping arrangements once and for all.

There was a lot to be said for getting it regular, among other things. Like--just for instance--delivering a steady reminder that 'familiar' didn't have to mean 'boring.'

He didn't know about Kougaiji, but Gojyo for one was damn tired of watching Hakkai flirt with Yaone every time they met up.

"You're the one stuck in the backseat with him," Sanzo said at last and shrugged, lifting the paper between them again with a crisp snap.

Yeah, right. Like Sanzo would really starve his monkey.

Gojyo looked at his plate, looked at the impenetrable wall of newsprint between him and the other man, and started looking around for the waitress. If he was quiet about it, he could order up seconds all around before Sanzo caught on.

Hakkai appeared as the waitress was bringing another tray, and though the man yawned politely behind his hand, he looked better than he had in weeks. Downright refreshed, in fact. Gojyo hid a smug grin behind his coffee cup, not that Sanzo was likely to see it. Hakkai saw it, and though the man just shook his head and smiled, Gojyo was okay with that. He knew Hakkai appreciated him just fine.

"Good morning, Sanzo, Gojyo," Hakkai said as he sat down, reaching automatically for the coffee. "Goku's not up yet?"

"I think Sanzo finally murdered him in his sleep," Gojyo said, sliding a sideways glance at the newspaper.

Not even a twitch. Damn.

Hakkai quirked a puzzled brow at him, but before Gojyo could fill him in on his suspicions--loudly, just in case Sanzo really wasn't paying attention--they heard the clatter of monkey feet on the stairs, followed by the plaintive cry of the common Goku in its natural habitat.

"Why didn't you _wake_ me? I'm starved!"

It wasn't usually hard to guess Goku's mood, not when the shrimp wore his heart on his sleeve the way he did. After a while you started to pick up on the nuances, like how the hungry look had actual gradations, from 'something smells good' to 'feed me or die.' Not that Gojyo actually thought Goku would really hurt anybody over food--well, not them, anyway--but that wasn't the point. The point was that the kid's face was an open book, and that book usually had more pictures than words.

Whatever language that book was written in today, Gojyo wasn't sure even Hakkai knew enough dialects to translate it. If he had to take a guess, Gojyo would say it was equal parts panic, revelation, and a desperate attempt to pretend nothing was any different from yesterday. All of which could have pointed to a wild night of debauchery unequalled in the history of man, except for two things. One, Goku didn't seem to be having any trouble sitting down--Gojyo supposed he could give Sanzo that much credit, at least--and two, Hakkai was shaking his head.

Which made Goku stare at him warily, the panic standing out clear in his eyes before it was locked firmly away. "Uh, Hakkai?"

"Oh. Nothing, Goku," Hakkai said reassuringly, shaking his head again as even Sanzo glanced over his paper with a suspicious scowl. "Gojyo was beginning to think you might not be coming down for breakfast."

"Ha! Like that'll happen," Goku said confidently, and just like that, he was the same old monkey again. Except for one thing. It was probably just Gojyo's imagination, but Goku didn't look at Sanzo once as he tucked into his breakfast.

Oh yeah. Something was definitely up.

**8\. thinking of you**

Goku thought he'd held up pretty well over breakfast, all things considered. Sure, Hakkai had given him the occasional look, the one that said it was okay to talk to him about anything, _really,_ but that didn't mean that Hakkai actually knew what was going on inside his head. Now, Gojyo on the other hand....

Turning his head to stare determinedly out at the countryside, Goku concentrated on the once-again cheerful hum of Jeep's engine and on not looking at anybody.

It was more difficult than usual, because Gojyo kept poking him, and Hakkai kept shooting him concerned looks, and Sanzo...well, Sanzo was ignoring them all entirely, which was a relief. He was pretty sure Sanzo had something on his mind today, and Goku was pathetically grateful for it, because if Sanzo hadn't been so distracted, he would have known at a glance that something was up. Maybe he wouldn't have made an effort to drag it out of him like Hakkai would, but Sanzo would have _known,_ and if he'd known, then he would have noticed other things, and then--

Goku sighed, hugging one of his legs against his chest and resting his chin on his knee. He couldn't help feeling stupid for worrying about this in the first place, because Sanzo wouldn't really kill him unless he tried something, and he couldn't even imagine trying something with Sanzo. What on earth would you say, anyway? _'Hey, thinking of you makes my body do weird things--help?'_ He knew exactly what kind of look Sanzo would give him if he said that, and anyway....

Anyway, it wasn't like he really had any idea what he wanted in the first place. If he tried really hard, he could just about imagine surprising a hug out of Sanzo, if Goku was the one doing the hugging, at least, and if he ran away really quickly afterwards. Anything more was just impossible.

Not, he reluctantly had to admit, that what was _possible_ had anything to do with what he _wanted._ He hadn't really let himself think about that, too hung up on the fact that it was never going to happen. But if he didn't even know what 'it' was, then how could he be so sure?

Glancing forward again, his eyes were caught by the gold of Sanzo's hair, shining now in the sun. Feeling greatly daring, he imagined touching it, wondered if it'd be as soft as it looked. Maybe it'd be even softer, like Hakuryuu's scales. On the road it smelled like sunlight, though it smelled like smoke if Sanzo had been brooding for a while at one of their stops. If Goku reached out, brushed the long strands away from Sanzo's face, would his skin smell like that afterwards?

He squirmed a little in his seat, that new possibility--that he might smell like Sanzo if they...well, _if_ \--pushing everything else out of his head. He liked the way Sanzo smelled, wouldn't mind smelling like that at all; it'd be like having Sanzo wrapped around him all the time. If he really wanted it to last, though, they'd have to get _very_ close. A sneaky hug-and-run wouldn't do. Skin to skin would be best, and it was almost like having the dream all over again the way it suddenly filled his head, so real it felt like memory.

Maybe that tense feeling in his stomach was a little like being hungry after all, because it nagged at him to do something about it and never really went away. Sometimes when he was really hungry he didn't always think about the consequences, but burned fingers and getting rapped on the head by Hakkai for sneaking a taste while Hakkai was cooking weren't really bad enough to convince him not to do it again.

He could imagine crawling into bed with Sanzo, maybe even naked; maybe naked _and_ curled around him, just like Jeep in the bath. But if he thought about that, he'd have to think about what he'd discovered that morning. Then he'd have to wonder if you could do that with another person, and the thought of rubbing up against a warm, naked Sanzo just about made the top of his head fly right off. Among other things.

On the other hand, as nice as those daydreams were and as hungry--or whatever--as they made him, the consequences this time were a bit worse than burned fingers. He didn't know for certain, but judging from the holes in the plaster Sanzo's casual irritation left behind, he was pretty sure being shot would hurt. Still...there was no harm in _thinking_ about it, was there? It wasn't like he was bothering Sanzo. What was so bad about just _thinking_ it?

Heaving a deep sigh, he hugged his leg more tightly to his chest--a move that, on hindsight, made him feel almost Hakkai-like in its brilliance--and ignored the way Gojyo sized him up with a grin and poked him for the hundredth time that day.

Well, maybe he flailed just a little. He was pretty sure it hurt Gojyo's skull more than his knuckles, too.

**9\. want not**

Sanzo rarely had any trouble tuning out the periodic scuffles from the backseat; it was simply a matter of shoving aside the grating irritation that arose every time he heard those idiots start up again. Pretending not to hear the smack of fist on flesh or Gojyo's offended yelp, he stared through the curtain of his hair and straight out the windshield, glaring determinedly at the road reeled in by Jeep's tires.

Watching the horizon come at him was infinitely better than being left alone with his own thoughts. He could watch the dusty miles in perfect stillness, almost in meditation. Existing in a space without thought, he didn't have to worry about messy things like annoying companions or unwanted attachments, or losing what remained of an already-questionable sanity.

In the cold light of day, he'd assumed the weirdness would stop, and he was grudgingly aware that that had been his first mistake. In his experience, the weirdness _never_ stopped; that was why they were going to India, after all.

But the dream weirdness--that should have ended, surely, drowned in coffee and shaken loose over rutted dirt roads once they got underway. Nobody could be blamed for a dream, but when it came back to haunt you hours later, that was a problem.

And he was thinking about it again, damn it, only this time the Goku in his head wasn't content with lying there politely, waiting for Sanzo to get fed up with being a pillow for a stupid monkey that didn't value his life as much as he should. This time Goku was Goku, a squirming, overactive bundle of energy that wouldn't stop moving, even if he didn't exactly seem to know what he was doing. Sanzo would have liked to kick the hell out of his baser nature, because if he was going to be pestered by thoughts like these, they could at least involve a Goku that was a little more skilled. Not this gamely willing, sex-stupid, _terrified_ monkey that bore a little too close a resemblance to the real thing.

That was probably what worried him most, because if he was having these kinds of thoughts about the real Goku, then he really had lost his mind. It'd be nice to blame it on a youkai spell, only asking the others if they were experiencing a similar curse wasn't something he cared to contemplate. Hakkai wouldn't laugh--not out loud, at any rate--but Gojyo would never let him hear the end of it, and putting the notion in Goku's head was out of the question. Putting up with Gojyo's wandering eyes was bad enough.

Steadfastly refusing to fidget in his seat or adjust his robes, Sanzo glared dead ahead and ground his teeth in silence. He most definitely did not deign to notice Hakkai's concerned look in his direction, though he did weaken briefly--but only the once--and stole a glance at the rearview mirror. Goku was staring blindly out at the countryside, such as it was, sitting with his cheek propped on his knee and wearing a preoccupied expression that made him look unexpectedly contemplative.

Vaguely relieved that Goku was still his usual, oblivious self, Sanzo went back to trying to convince his own mind to follow suit. The only thing more dangerous than wanting things was _having_ things, and it was even worse when those things were people.

**10\. driving games**

Sometimes the wheel moved under Hakkai's hands of its own volition, but he never held it too tightly, and he never tried to stop it from doing so. He might be the one steering, but Hakuryuu was perfectly capable of picking his own ground, and Hakkai never forgot it. He was even grateful for it, as it gave him less need to watch the road and more time to watch his companions.

Sanzo was usually a chain-smoking statue in the passenger seat, determinedly unmoved and mostly silent. He wasn't normally given to fidgeting; that was Goku's job, and Goku was rarely still or quiet for long.

Today it was Sanzo who was jittery, moving restlessly in his seat and occasionally giving his head a sharp shake, while Goku sat like a rock in the back, ignoring Gojyo and staring off into space. Hakkai hadn't believed it at first, but he was starting to think the two things were connected after all.

Leather-wrapped metal slid smoothly under his palms, and he felt the tires shift, Jeep changing course minutely. When they splashed through yet another puddle--one that could easily have been avoided--Hakkai bit his lip to trap a smile and waited for Sanzo to erupt.

When all he heard was silence, he stole a glance at his usually-observant companion, wondering if he'd find Sanzo clench-jawed and fuming, holding on to his serenity by his fingernails. Sanzo was still staring straight ahead, and to the casual observer, it might look like he was watching the road. Hakkai took careful note of the grim set of his mouth, the crease that was becoming a permanent fixture between his brows, and the glassy eyes of someone whose thoughts were very far away, and quietly began to worry.

In the backseat, Gojyo poked Goku yet again, and Hakkai silently cheered him on. The resulting explosions--whether from Goku or Sanzo--were rarely fatal, and annoyance tended to make Goku even more forthcoming than usual. Not that Hakkai would personally care to put himself in the way of Goku's jabbed elbow or fist, but that was Gojyo's choice.

All Goku did this time was growl. "Knock it off, Gojyo," he said, sounding distracted, not irritated. Whatever he was thinking, it was apparently taking up most of his concentration.

Gojyo met Hakkai's eyes in the rearview mirror and gave a frustrated shrug, one Hakkai could only nod back at. He'd dismissed it at first, because Sanzo hadn't seemed angry and Goku wasn't acting guilty, but this odd preoccupation of theirs was nearly as troublesome. Whatever had or hadn't happened the night before was apparently important after all, as it was affecting half their party--over half, if you counted Hakuryuu's antics as part of the same problem.

Hakkai called the little dragon on it at their next rest stop. Sanzo finally woke up from his brood long enough to realize that Goku should have been complaining of hunger even though he hadn't yet, and where they happened to be was as good a place as any to pause for a break. The water in the stream nearby was running reasonably clean now that the worst of the rain had passed, and the open clearing had been baked dry by the sun. More importantly, they would be able to see their enemies approaching, oh, at _least_ ten seconds in advance, and that was plenty.

Glancing at the others, Hakkai found Gojyo pacing around, stretching long legs that were perpetually cramped from being folded into Jeep's confines for the better part of the day, every day. Goku was back in this world at the moment, and as long as food still had the power to focus his attention, Hakkai supposed that at least one of them would be all right. It was Sanzo that puzzled him, because while Sanzo was outwardly the same as ever--leaning casually with his back against a stout tree, cigarette poised in his left hand--he wore the look of a man fighting a battle with himself. That in itself wouldn't be so very strange, except that Sanzo appeared to be losing.

A waist-high rock sat hunched to the side of the road, and Hakkai made his way over to it when he found Hakuryuu perched there, basking in the afternoon sun. They were far enough away from the others not to be overheard, but Hakkai kept his voice down regardless. It was never easy to tell what Goku could hear, and he didn't want unnecessary complications.

"You're up to something," Hakkai said without preamble, smiling a little to show he didn't mind.

Hakuryuu tilted his head and peered up at him, red eyes going wide and melting. "Kyuu?" he cheeped, the very picture of innocence.

Hakkai's mouth twitched, but he managed not to laugh out loud with an effort. "Indeed. Only I can't tell if you're trying to give me more time together with Gojyo or whether you're flirting with Sanzo."

Hakuryuu looked away, turning his head to nibble delicately at a wingtip, ignoring him entirely.

"Hmm. Well, just remember that Goku is inclined to be possessive."

Pausing in his preening, Hakuryuu looked up without looking around, and the glint in his eyes was positively wicked.

Hakkai sighed. "I'm sure I don't know where you get it from."

"Kyuu!" Hakuryuu said, the curve of his long neck straightening out as he stretched over to rub his head against Hakkai's hand.

**11\. food for thought**

He was not going to think about Sanzo. Not right now, at any rate. Doing it in Jeep was one thing, because at least then Sanzo sat with his back to Goku, and while he used to hate that, today he liked it almost as much as when he'd first realized that it was because Sanzo trusted him, just him, to be back there where Sanzo couldn't watch him.

Sanzo could watch him now, though, if he wanted to. There was no place to hide across a crowded dinner table, even one as loaded with food as this one was. There was pizza and barbecued pork and meat buns and soup and noodles and steamed vegetables and rice and half a chocolate cake Hakkai was insisting they save for last, and that would ordinarily be enough to distract him from all his problems. If he could eat, that just proved that no matter how bad things were, he was still better off than he had any right to expect.

It was different when the problem was Sanzo. Sanzo was way more important than food, even really _good_ food, though Sanzo would probably growl at him if he said so. Sanzo was like that. He was important to a lot of people, not just to Goku, but he didn't enjoy it. The more you depended on him, the more grouchy he got, until he'd finally kick you out and yell at you to go live your own life and stand on your own two feet. Goku knew that part of it was because he was a Sanzo and took the idea of non-attachment way too seriously, but he was pretty sure that wasn't the only reason. It was more like it was just the _surface_ reason, like a scab on something deeper, and picking at it wasn't always a good idea.

Goku had always been careful not to need too much, but there would never come a time when he didn't need Sanzo. It wasn't a choice he'd made; it was just something that was true, so why worry about it?

This new need, though, probably _would_ be too much, and he didn't want it badly enough to find out. Yet.

_Meat buns,_ he reminded himself, snagging one off the platter and biting it almost in half. _Think about meat buns._ Fresh from the kitchen and made by someone who knew their way around a cookbook, steaming aromas tickling his nose and making his mouth water. Chewing ecstatically, he found himself thinking yet again--with a certainty he'd never bothered to question--that this was _better_ than heaven.

Sanzo was picking at his own meal when Goku dared a glance in his direction, but that was nothing new. Sanzo didn't eat enough to keep even Jeep alive as far as Goku was concerned, and forcing him to eat only worked when he was too wounded to hurt you for it.

As Goku watched, Sanzo nibbled a fried prawn, pushed some rice around on his plate, and methodically ate an entire slice of pizza before losing all interest in his meal. The waitress had brought glasses along with the beer, but Sanzo ignored this in favor of sitting back with a bottle in hand, sipping directly from its mouth.

_Mouth,_ Goku found himself thinking, and he was pretty sure he wasn't staring--he hoped he wasn't staring, anyway--but he did wonder if Sanzo should be allowed to do that in public. Tip his head back like that, throat working briefly until he lowered the bottle once more, and licking his lips when they parted almost reluctantly from the glass.

_Cake,_ Goku told himself frantically, _think about cake. **Cake.**_

When he saw the tip of Sanzo's tongue flick the lip of the bottle, his eyes glazed over entirely, and though he was staring right at dessert, it was the absolute last thing on his mind.

**12\. silence is golden**

He was nursing a beer, cautiously relaxing when the next bad idea hit him like a runaway dragon. He blamed the bottle, which would have put the wrong thoughts in anyone's head, but glasses were too much trouble and the kitchen didn't sell anything in a can.

Forcing himself to remain perfectly still, he shot a suspicious glance at Goku, but Goku was staring at the cake Hakkai had bullied Sanzo into agreeing to, glassy-eyed and single-minded, stupid with hunger. Any other day, Sanzo would have been satisfied with that, knowing exactly where the monkey's priorities were at the moment and assured that everything was completely normal and under control.

Tonight he couldn't drag his eyes away, struck by Goku's expression and wondering if that degree of desperation and bliss had always been there. It was the sort of look Sanzo would have expected to see in bed, not at the dinner table, and damn it, now that he was thinking about it, he _could_ see it in bed. Clearly. Just like the way he'd been able to see himself taking the monkey in hand and tasting him, just so.

Slamming the bottle down on the table, Sanzo hissed in annoyance when beer foamed out over his fingers. He was already licking them clean when it occurred to him that the gods hated him, because Hakkai had just kicked Gojyo under the table, and that never meant anything good.

Rising from his seat in a flurry of robes and scripture, he pointedly ignored the hunger of a different sort aimed at him by the kappa and stalked for the door. "I'm going for a smoke," he snapped over his shoulder, only because Goku was growling. Not that he really cared if Goku pounded Gojyo's head against the table a few times, but the bill for the property damage probably wouldn't be worth the satisfaction.

He was grateful for the robes as he made his way outside, not only because they earned him a clear path to the door, but because they hid any number of sins. His gun for one, and his smokes and lighter for another. And the unwelcome, maddening stiffness of a cock that didn't _care_ that Sanzo had no intention of obliging it, that screwing any of the idiots he was traveling with would be an exceptionally bad idea, and that screwing the monkey in particular would be the worst idea of all. Hakkai, at least, already had two people fixed firmly in his heart and no room, thank the gods, for a third. Gojyo he'd have to gag to make the experience even halfway bearable, but you couldn't keep him gagged forever. Pity, that.

And then there was Goku.

Leaning in the shadows just beyond the inn's open doors, Sanzo fished his cigarettes out of his sleeve and lit up with a steady hand. His fingers itched to reach down and adjust himself--to do more than that, if the inn had had more than two rooms free tonight--but he ignored that impulse and the idiot demands of the body. He would stand here and smoke and remind himself not to breathe too deeply, not to feel too deeply, and he would sort his head out himself.

What he really wanted to know was why, why now and why Goku. Some part of him--he suspected it was the same part that was refusing to subside in other ways, as well--was stubbornly starting to ask why _not_ Goku, but that was what happened when all the blood left your brain. Your body started asking questions your mind couldn't keep up with.

Taking another drag, he glared into the dark and sighed out a long plume that was snatched away by the night air. He hadn't bothered to teach Goku how to smoke, because he knew it wouldn't do any good. Goku would never learn not to feel too deeply, would always end up choking on the smoke eventually. That it never shook Goku's belief in himself was something Sanzo could almost envy, but he couldn't live like that himself.

Goku only remembered being saved. He didn't remember being left behind, didn't know that being alone wasn't the worst.

Snarling at himself, Sanzo stubbed his cigarette out on the wall, taking a last look around the quiet courtyard and feeling a mild stab of disappointment when no assassins leaped out to oblige him. He would have welcomed a distraction, because while Gojyo might be able to fight and still think about fucking, that took a certain level of perversity Sanzo was proud to lack.

When he made his way back inside and retraced his steps to their table, he realized with a sinking feeling that Hakkai and Gojyo had used his absence to make good their escape. Together. Leaving him with the monkey and the dragon. Hakuryuu looked positively miserable, crouched dejectedly on the table like a wet cat, and Goku eyed him warily as he approached, nervously licking chocolate icing off his fingers. Sanzo was vaguely aware that Goku had been quiet lately, far quieter than normal, and he couldn't decide if that meant Goku was growing up or whether that was the reason he'd been so aware of Goku recently.

Snorting quietly, he frowned at the two at the table and said, "Looks like you're with me again."

Goku managed to look both pleased and troubled at the same time, which put a weird feeling in the pit of Sanzo's stomach. It hadn't occurred to him to wonder before this, but could Goku have picked up on where Sanzo's thoughts had been lately? Narrowing his eyes, he stared Goku down for a moment and saw nothing but an earnest desire to please and the familiar trepidation that he'd somehow incurred Sanzo's wrath. While Sanzo would have liked to encourage Goku's good behavior by leaving him guessing and paranoid, the possibility that he might be digging his own grave by doing so prompted him to indulgence.

"And stop trying so hard," he said gruffly, wondering why Goku jerked like a startled rabbit. "You're giving me a headache."

For a brief moment, he thought Goku would simply fall out of his chair in shock. The way gold eyes went huge and round didn't exactly fill him with reassurance, and he liked it even less when Goku went a few shades paler under his tan. He had one hand on his fan, ready and willing to use it, when Hakuryuu edged over to his side of the table and gave him the cheep of the cruelly abandoned.

Eyeing the dragon darkly, he muttered, "Yes, you're with me too. I doubt Hakkai would make you sleep outside, but you wouldn't get much sleep in that room anyway."

"Kyuu," Hakuryuu agreed, wings drooping.

Rolling his eyes, Sanzo decided to ignore Goku's strangeness, just this once, and headed for the stairs. It was no surprise when Hakuryuu followed him, soaring overhead to meet him hovering in the upstairs hall, but it was a little strange not to hear the monkey clattering after him. Usually Goku jumped at the chance to room with him, like a novice haunting a favorite teacher, but he was certain Goku would be along sooner or later.

Stripping out of his robe and his no-longer-muddy boots, he took the bed closest to the window and left the thin curtains open, counting on the sun to wake him in the morning. Hakuryuu flew over to perch on the sill, staring out the dusty glass with a mournful air as Sanzo blew out the lantern left burning in the room. When he crawled into bed, he could see the silvery shape of the dragon still hunkered at the window and heard the little creature's whistling sigh, like a reed pipe blown by the wind.

When the door opened again not long after, he glanced warily towards it and was calmed by Goku's distinctive outline, whipcord body and disordered hair, and the faint gleam of gold eyes in the dark. "'S just me," Goku whispered, and Sanzo turned his head back to stare up at the ceiling, refusing to watch as Goku skinned down to his shirt and his shorts.

The other bed creaked as Goku settled, creaked again with a rustle of sheets as Goku shifted around, looking for a comfortable spot. Innocent noises that weren't anymore, not quite. Goku sighed, rolled over, then turned again until he lay on his side, facing Sanzo.

"Good night, Sanzo," Goku called softly, and while it wasn't quite his begging voice, there was a touch of loneliness to it that reminded him of Jeep at the window.

"Go to sleep, monkey," he said after a beat, not nearly as harshly as he'd intended.

Just before he nodded off, he heard Hakuryuu launch himself from the window sill, saw the silver arc of the dragon's passage from the shallow ledge to land on Sanzo's pillow. Belatedly remembering that Hakkai always prepared a bed for the dragon to sleep in, he supposed he couldn't very well begrudge sharing part of his own, not when Hakuryuu carried him around all day without complaint. Waiting tensely as the dragon curled up between his cheek and his shoulder, he listened to the faint, tiny breaths and the soft cheep of thanks by his ear. Finding the sounds unexpectedly soothing, he slowly relaxed and was eventually lulled to sleep.

**13\. implied vs. inferred**

Goku knew he should get up from the table and follow Sanzo upstairs. The common room was starting to fill up with drinkers and card games, and the servers had started giving him dirty looks, eyeing the rather messy remains of their dinner with a sort of weary bitterness. Yes, he should just go upstairs, because--

 _Stop trying so hard,_ Sanzo had told him. _You're giving me a headache._

Giving him a headache, like maybe Goku's thoughts--and didn't Sanzo always hear when Goku thought too loud, needed too much?--were yelling in his ear...only Sanzo had also said not to try so hard, like maybe it was how desperately Goku was trying to _hide_ his thoughts that was bothering the man. Sanzo knew what Goku was thinking, at least, that much was plain, and Goku didn't know whether to be relieved or chagrined that Sanzo was being...well, not kind about it, exactly, because Sanzo wasn't kind. Although he did let Goku get away with murder. All the monks at the temple had said so.

And that was a horrible thought, one that almost shamed him into never thinking about _that_ again, whether Sanzo could hear him or not. Did Sanzo hate it, and was he just putting up with it because he always put up with Goku's foolishness? Only it hadn't sounded like that, not quite. It really had sounded like Sanzo was giving him permission, like he knew Goku couldn't help it. If Sanzo had really been upset, he would've yelled, or sent Goku to talk to Hakkai, or told him to _stop thinking._

Maybe Sanzo wasn't that upset after all. Of course, now Goku had to go upstairs and share a room with a Sanzo who probably thought Goku was thinking about him like that _all the time,_ like he was Gojyo or something, and even if he said it was okay--

Goku couldn't believe he'd been let off the hook this easy. He'd figured there'd be shooting involved at the very least.

Though he was tempted to linger over the empty dishes for as long as he could get away with it, he knew waiting wouldn't really help. Dropping his napkin onto his plate, he rose and pushed his chair back in, ducked his head with an apologetic smile for the waitresses, and trudged reluctantly up the stairs. Maybe Sanzo would already be asleep; that happened sometimes, Sanzo dropping off as soon as his head hit the pillow, though bandages and painkillers were usually involved. You never knew, and anyway, Goku was an optimist.

The room was already dark when he opened the door, but he could tell Sanzo was still awake. Sleeping with one eye open was just a cliché, and Sanzo had _both_ eyes open, fixed on the ceiling until he glanced in Goku's direction.

"'S just me," Goku said, pushing the door closed behind him, and Sanzo made a half-there sound of acknowledgement before looking away again.

Goku couldn't remember the last time he'd scrambled out of his clothes so fast, desperate to get under the sheets before he embarrassed himself somehow. He had to force himself to slow down--he didn't want to look like...well, to look like he was _eager_ \--reminding himself that Sanzo was human and couldn't see in the dark. He might have eyes in the back of his head, sure, but that was probably just a Sanzo thing. 

It was definitely a relief to crawl into bed, but then he couldn't get comfortable. Part of it was simple nervousness, but the larger part was a suicidal urge he'd never even suspected in himself, because Sanzo was right there, and Goku wondered what would have happened if Sanzo _had_ watched him strip just now. And what if he hadn't stopped where he had; what if he'd shucked it all right down to the skin, climbed into the other bed, and...and he really wished he could slink off somewhere for a few minutes alone right now, because he was pretty sure could settle his thoughts if could just settle his body.

He tried lying on his back at first, but he couldn't seem to relax, his spine and limbs stiff and wooden. He shifted after a moment to lie on his stomach, but--no, _bad_ idea, and so he ended up on his side, his back to the other bed. Which made him feel like he had something to hide--he did--but if he thought so, then Sanzo would definitely think so, and the thought of Sanzo casting suspicious looks his way right now was too uncomfortable for words.

At last he gave in and rolled to face Sanzo, and then everything felt okay. 

"Good night, Sanzo," he said softly, not really expecting an answer. It'd be nice if he got one, of course, but Sanzo hadn't ever been impressed with that sort of thing. Silence said it all as far as Sanzo was concerned: 'You're not annoying me, I'm not arguing, and good _night._ ' He still wouldn't mind hearing it, though.

"Go to sleep, monkey," Sanzo said, his gruff voice drifting across the dark in a low growl that prodded that achy place inside Goku awake again. Not the sad ache or the hungry ache in his belly--or the hungrier ache he didn't want to think about just now--but the one he got because Sanzo was Sanzo, and when Sanzo wasn't angry, wasn't pushing him away, it was like being back in the cave and having the sun slip right out of its orbit to shine in on him through the bars.

Movement from the window startled him, but it was just Jeep uncurling from a forlorn crouch, arching his neck with his head at a speculative tilt and spreading his wings. He probably wasn't happy about being abandoned for the night, and Goku couldn't blame him; if Sanzo had locked him out so he could be with Gojyo--

He managed to stop himself from growling this time, but it was a close thing. Teeth clenched on his lower lip, eyes wide, he almost didn't notice when Jeep pushed off from the window ledge and took flight...until he saw the little dragon land on Sanzo's pillow.

Sanzo didn't order him off.

Goku blinked, holding his breath as he waited for a yell, a mutter, anything. Sanzo huffed a sigh, but it wasn't even particularly irate, and that was almost as unfair as watching them share a bath. He was on the verge of saying as much, too--he'd give Jeep his entire bed if it meant they could swap places--but he bit his tongue instead. It wasn't as bad as it looked, really. Jeep was a dragon, when he wasn't being a Jeep. He was just being silly.

And then Jeep lifted his head, ruby eyes glittering in the dark, and trilled something entirely smug.

Goku grit his teeth and started wondering how long it'd take them to get to India on foot.

**14\. meanwhile**

Lounging on one of the room's two beds, Gojyo watched Hakkai fold his sash into a neat bundle and set it aside, unhurried and methodical. Gojyo considered it something of a personal achievement if he managed to work Hakkai up to the point where clothes went flying, but he liked to save that for special occasions. So that Hakkai never knew it was coming. He was pretty sure the element of surprise was his strongest weapon on nights like those, and he'd hate for it to lose the thrill.

As for himself, he'd already peeled down to his pants, which were riding low on his hips now as he sat back on his elbows to watch the show, one bare foot braced on the edge of the mattress, the other leg swinging idly over the edge. He didn't mind the slow disrobing so much anymore, even if it gave more time for random youkai to burst in at the worst possible moment. There was something to be said for anticipation, and he got a half-embarrassed kick out of watching Hakkai strip down for him, baring the things he mostly tended to hide.

Gojyo considered it bad manners to be preoccupied with anything else when you were hoping to get lucky, but even with the usual distraction missing--sly ruby eyes that tended to watch him sidelong from whatever nest Hakkai had rigged, amused and challenging--it wasn't entirely absent.

"Your dragon is up to something," Gojyo said, a wry grin tugging at his mouth.

Hakkai paused with his arms crossed before him, hands on the hem of his shirt. "You noticed that too?"

Gojyo snorted, shaking his head. "You might want to tell him that Sanzo already has a pet."

"I do believe he knows," Hakkai said, voice temporarily muffled as he continued to undress. It was probably a bad sign that Hakkai's voice sounded the way his dragon's enigmatic glances looked--like he knew something the rest of them didn't and couldn't wait to sit back and watch the fireworks. Gojyo arched a brow at him, but Hakkai just yawned, his smile too innocent to be anything but a fucking tease. "I think I'll turn in."

_That_ was a game he knew, at least.

"Sounds lonely," he said, arranging his face in a serious expression not reflected in his voice.

"Do you have a solution in mind?"

That sort of smile--mild and courteous and every inch a challenge--shouldn't make him want to pounce, but it did. Didn't matter that he knew it was a mask. Politeness always got to him, every time, and Hakkai was insufferably polite.

"Oh, I'm sure I could come up with something."

**15\. a little dream of me**

In Sanzo's dream, he was in Hell. Goku was there because Goku would apparently follow him anywhere, or maybe someone had arranged for the monkey's presence as a special kind of torture.

Goku was all over him, a warm weight of lean muscle and frantic hands, not heavy enough to make Sanzo feel crushed or trapped, but solid enough that he couldn't be ignored. Not that Sanzo could have ignored him anyway, not with Goku trying to kiss him, raw and unskilled and desperate. It was pathetic the way he pressed their mouths together, lips parting and then closing again, abashed, like he expected Sanzo to do all the work. And when he did try again, a frustrated whine humming at the back of his throat, all he did was lick at Sanzo's lower lip, way too fucking polite.

Sanzo had had enough. He wasn't going to put up with being fumbled at like some brothel boy with a drunken suitor.

Rolling them both over, he pinned Goku to the mattress, one hand pressing a strong, sharp-boned wrist into the pillows by Goku's head, the other holding down a sun-browned shoulder. Leaning in decisively, he took Goku's mouth with a harsh, hungry kiss, growling as he felt the air stolen from his lungs by Goku's hitched breath. When Sanzo shifted, slid a leg in between Goku's and ground down against him, Goku caught on with a face like an epiphany.

"Sanzo," he breathed the moment Sanzo lifted his head, _"Sanzo."_

He woke with a start, the dream so real he could almost hear Goku's voice ringing in his ears. The room was utterly still, which wasn't much comfort, because if he hadn't been reacting to Goku's noises in his sleep this time, then it was all on him. Which was crazy, and he was so fucking hard, and not even having a dragon in the bed could keep him from reaching under the sheets, taking himself in hand, and finishing it off. It didn't take long at all, three fast pulls and the backs of his closed eyes where he saw himself again, rocking against Goku as Goku held on for dear life, wild-eyed and wanting more.

When it was over, he wiped his hand off on the sheet, not giving a shit what the maids would think. The entire world probably thought he was fucking the monkey anyway, at least until they saw Goku fight, because why else would a monk be dragging a kid around? Goku wasn't a kid, though, not anymore, and some part of him was obviously far too aware of it.

"Fuck," he muttered to himself, though he hardly needed the reminder. Sorting out his own head wasn't working. Maybe he was cursed after all.

He didn't sleep for hours after that, and when he did finally drop off, he went out hard, falling straight past dreaming to a state closer to unconsciousness, the deepest sleep he'd had in over a year without Hakkai or a blow to the head taking a hand in it. When he woke at last, he found Goku already up and gone, though Hakuryuu was still waiting for him, curled up on the pillow and preening his wings. If the dragon had woke up for his little performance in the night or had any opinion of it at all, you couldn't tell from his wistful cheep of greeting.

"Don't remind me," Sanzo muttered, sitting up and running a hand through his hair, pulling his bangs down in front of his eyes. He shook them back a moment later, firming his expression with a scowl. Dreams were just dreams, and while he wasn't much of a Sanzo if he couldn't control his, that didn't make them real.

**16\. your morning forecast**

Hakkai had been the first to wake, a distinction he usually traded off with Sanzo, but the next to stumble down the stairs had been Gojyo, Goku close on his heels. Breakfast had already been ordered and delivered, Hakkai sipping his second cup of coffee, before Sanzo finally came down, not looking nearly rested enough for how late he'd slept.

Grateful for the shield it gave him, Hakkai peered over the edge of his cup as he watched Hakuryuu soar down with Sanzo, backwinging neatly as he landed on the back of Sanzo's chair, ignoring Hakkai with a pointed sniff. Though the dragon couldn't ride on Sanzo's shoulder with the scripture there--Sanzo would not be amused--there were other ways to show that he was snubbing his master. It was all Hakkai could do not to chuckle out loud.

He wasn't the only one to notice the dragon's preferential treatment. Goku was eyeing Jeep with a betrayed look, while Gojyo sat back in his chair and sprawled out like a cat, smirking and smug, clearly broadcasting his belief that he'd gotten the better end of the deal.

Sanzo glared at all of them, narrowing his eyes when they settled on Hakkai.

"You should start paying more attention to your dragon," he muttered, "or we're going to end up walking."

Hakkai arched his brows, glancing at the narrow, mischievous face that peered at him from over Sanzo's shoulder and back to Sanzo again. "Somehow," he said with sunny nonchalance, "I don't think we're in much danger of that."

Goku made a frustrated sound, but Sanzo merely glared harder, eyes glittering a clear message. _I dare you to laugh, and I'll make you pay if I'm inconvenienced in any way._ Hakkai wasn't perturbed. Hakuryuu was far too canny to carry the game that far.

Hakkai had already made up a plate for the dragon once breakfast had arrived, and if it just happened to sit between his seat and Sanzo's, that was purely coincidental. Hopping down to the table to begin his own breakfast, Hakuryuu continued to ignore his master as he nibbled delicately at his meal, from time to time stealing a morsel or two off of Sanzo's plate the way he ordinarily would from Hakkai's. Even Sanzo seemed to see the humor in that, his hand never once reaching for the fan or to nudge their fifth member away, though he cast a dark look at Gojyo when the other snickered outright.

Goku was in an ecstasy of jealousy, and Hakkai hoped that whatever Hakuryuu had in mind, it could be concluded quickly. Goku was already troubled by something he didn't seem willing to share, and Sanzo was decidedly edgy, like a cat poked one time too many, only waiting for something to come along that it could sink its claws into.

**17\. breeds of familiarity**

Part of Goku hadn't wanted to get up that morning at all, partly because he'd wanted to hold on to the dream he'd had, and partly because if he went back to sleep, it might happen again. Dawn had already been seeping through the open curtains when he'd opened his eyes, and Sanzo was the first thing he'd seen, the man's head turned slightly towards him, not-quite-relaxed even in sleep. People were always saying that you looked younger asleep, but Goku didn't think that was always true. Gojyo kind of did, when he didn't look totally depraved, but Hakkai usually looked sad, sometimes scary. Sanzo just looked tense, like the tight grip he kept on himself during the day didn't let up even at night, or ever.

He was still beautiful, though he didn't seem quite as untouchable as before. Not when Goku could so clearly picture him hard and hungry and wanting, wanting _him._

He'd almost gotten up then and gone over to the other bed, just crazy enough to think that maybe it'd be okay. It was pretty much a given that Sanzo would kick him out afterwards, but it'd be what happened after the afterwards that mattered. If there was a next time, then it'd be just that littlest bit longer before Sanzo kicked him out again, and then a little bit longer the next, and then maybe, if Goku just kept trying, remained patient, maybe Sanzo wouldn't kick him out at all.

If there _was_ a next time. If he didn't get kicked out before he even began.

In the end he'd lost his nerve, left the room and made a beeline for the bathroom, and it was quick and messy and he worried the entire time that someone would knock on the door, that it'd be Sanzo, that his face would give him away as he slunk out. It still helped, he guessed, but it was like being given all the rice balls you could eat when what you really wanted was a steak, and shrimp rolls, and that curry with the potatoes in it, and maybe a cake.

Gods, he shouldn't be thinking about cake.

But no one was waiting for him outside when he edged through the door and out into the hall, and he came downstairs like nothing had happened, like he couldn't still feel ghost fingers on his shoulder, his wrist. And Hakkai just smiled at him and Gojyo tossed him a smirk, so everything was fine.

Only now he was back to trying not to think about Sanzo, because Sanzo looked...on edge today. Not that most people could tell, or tell the difference from his usual glare, but Hakkai could and Gojyo could and Goku _definitely_ could, and Goku didn't want to think that it was his fault, only it probably was.

That put the ache back in his stomach, and not the good ache.

Curled up in Jeep's backseat again, Goku rested his chin on his arm, his arm on the door, and half-lidded his eyes against the flickering of the sun through the forest canopy they passed under. He wanted to ask Hakkai why it was that the harder you tried not to think of something, the harder you ended up thinking about it, but that probably wouldn't be smart. Someone would ask him what it was he was not-thinking about, and then he'd be in trouble. Keeping his questions to himself, he found himself thinking about Hakkai and Gojyo instead.

He didn't really understand the way they worked, whether Gojyo still flirted with everything that moved out of habit or to drive Hakkai nuts, but he'd give a lot to know how they'd gotten to that point. The three years they'd lived together before all this must've helped, but Goku had been with Sanzo the same length of time, and they weren't like that at all. Sure, Sanzo let him hang around, but...it was like there was a wall, a really thick one, between Sanzo and everything else, good and bad alike.

Sometimes, he thought quietly--very, very quietly, praying all the while that Sanzo wouldn't hear--he could almost hate Sanzo's old master. If Koumyou hadn't died, then maybe Sanzo would have been all right. But if Koumyou hadn't ever lived at all...if Sanzo hadn't ever loved anyone before, then...maybe Goku would have been a surprise. Even if Sanzo hadn't loved him back, maybe he would've let Goku love him anyway.

Leaning practically over the side of Jeep like he was, when he glanced over at Sanzo, he had a pretty good view of the man's face...and it was grim.

Now he felt _really_ bad.

When half a hundred shapes dropped suddenly out of the trees and sent Jeep's tires squealing to a halt, Goku stared around in honest surprise, not used to having his prayers granted so quickly.

**18\. stress relief**

"Aw, shit," Gojyo grumbled as he vaulted out of Jeep and called his shakujou to him, only to plant one end in the earth and lean on the tall staff. "And I just had this coat laundered."

"We could always present Kougaiji with the bill next time we meet," Hakkai offered, one corner of his mouth tipping up faintly as he stepped down from Jeep as well.

Brightening--more at the thought of Doku's rather than Kougaiji's face if they did--Gojyo flashed him a grin that was mostly teeth. "Hell, yes. In fact, I insist."

"Lovely. In that case--"

Both of their heads whipped around when Goku bounded out of the backseat like his legs were on springs, going not over the side but over the _front,_ feet touching down lightly on Jeep's hood before he went airborne again. Yelling a warcry that dropped a cold shiver down Gojyo's spine--it was way too wild, too _fierce_ when none of them had been injured yet--the monkey charged the front ranks and hit them like an avalanche, bodies dropping all around him while Gojyo gaped like an idiot.

"Whoa," he said, unwillingly impressed. "What the hell's gotten into--"

The barking fire of Sanzo's revolver swallowed the rest of his words, and he glanced over cautiously to find Sanzo standing up in the front seat, firing into the crowd of angry youkai with an unexpectedly fierce expression. Lately Sanzo had been looking bored at the attacks, about as enthused as a housewife beating the rugs.

When Sanzo emptied all six chambers, he stuck the gun in his sash, stepped down from the Jeep, and broke the nearest youkai in half with his bare hands.

_"Hey!"_ Gojyo shouted, lifting his bladed staff and shaking it in outrage at the other two. "Leave some for us!"

Hakkai's hand on his shoulder made him glance sideways, amused green eyes meeting his with a smile and a headshake. "Let them be," Hakkai said with fond tolerance.

"Tch. Selfish!" Gojyo muttered, watching the nearest youkai size them up and decide they _must_ be worse if they weren't even bothering to get into defensive stances.

Always had to do their own thing, mess up his plans...stupid monkey.

Stupid priest.

**19\. theorem**

But then again, Goku thought as he swung Nyoi-Bo in a deadly arc, he was forgetting one simple fact. Sanzo would never send him away--he had utter faith in that--but Sanzo had never hesitated one instant to make it perfectly clear if he didn't like something. As far as Sanzo was concerned, suffering in silence was what you did when the enemy got in a lucky hit and you still wanted to kill them yourself. If he'd really been upset with Goku, then Goku's head would be ringing with it.

The fact that Sanzo hadn't even waved the fan in Goku's general direction...that could only be a good sign. Right?

**20\. no refunds**

Ensconced once again in the front passenger seat, Sanzo sat with his arms folded across his chest, glaring out the windshield with more rancor than the view usually warranted. He didn't know if they'd just run into a weaker bunch than usual or whether Kougaiji was running out of decent cannon fodder, but the fight hadn't relaxed him as much as he'd hoped. It hadn't distracted him from thoughts of what he'd dreamed the night before, either. He almost felt cheated.

If he could have, he would have reached inside his own head and strangled his subconscious. Of all the people to fixate on--and he was _not_ fixated, but if he _were_ to be--he couldn't think of anyone worse than Goku. Well, he could, but not in any realistic sense. Developing an irrational passion for one of the ancient dragon kings would just be absurd, not masochistic, and--

Sanzo gritted his teeth. By that rationale, some part of him apparently thought Goku was actually a reasonable choice.

In all fairness, he had to admit that Goku probably had a lot to recommend him: blind devotion, a certain idiot charm, the enthusiasm of a dog that hasn't been fed in a week. When he recalled Goku's expression over what had somehow become "the Cake Incident" in his head, he couldn't help thinking it was a shame that look had been wasted on food. And seeing him that afternoon, his ferocity as he'd torn into the youkai horde, a whirlwind that destroyed everything in its path then came to heel, smiling sheepishly, at a word from--

Sanzo's eyes narrowed, suddenly thoughtful. The way the monkey had gone on the attack...that had been extreme even for Goku. Goku usually equated fighting with playing until someone got hurt, but this time he'd been as fierce as Sanzo himself from the start. Only what frustrations did Goku have to work off?

The monkey had been quiet lately; Sanzo had noticed it already, but he hadn't thought much of it. Now he wondered what he'd missed.

Glancing back in the rearview mirror, he noticed Goku's odd expression, all desperate hope and skepticism, so thoughtful he almost expected to see smoke pouring out of Goku's ears. Distant eyes suddenly blinked, slid left, and met Sanzo's in Jeep's side mirror. Anticipating worry or evasion, Sanzo frowned suspiciously when Goku instead gave him a blinding grin, far too happy for anyone's good. It was probably nothing, some random coincidence. Goku was always happy to see him.

It took all his willpower not to bang his head on the dashboard a few times to knock those images loose.

**21\. reservations**

"This looks like a good-sized town," Hakkai said neutrally, and though he didn't come right out and _say_ he wanted to stop, he did ease up off the gas as the first inn came in sight. Goku thought that was pretty smart all around, both the part where Hakkai left it up to Sanzo to choose and the part where they got to pull over for the night, because Sanzo still looked pretty tired.

Sanzo's scowl told them exactly what he thought of both, but he didn't argue immediately, choosing instead to glare at the sky as if the sun was deserting them on purpose. His speculative look sort of worried Goku--it'd be just like Sanzo to insist on pressing on, even if it meant camping out in the woods--but Jeep slowed again with a weak little "Kyuu" that wasn't fooling anyone.

"Fine," Sanzo huffed. Goku couldn't decide whether to be relieved or jealous. "Find us somewhere decent. We may be here a while."

"Oh?" Hakkai asked ingenuously, which Sanzo ignored. Goku caught Hakkai trading a glance with Gojyo in the rear view mirror, but nothing else was said until they pulled in at the front doors of one of the nicest inns Goku had seen in a while.

It was second nature to grab Sanzo's things along with his own, Sanzo already stalking for the doors like a man on a mission. Or maybe two missions, one suddenly more pressing than the other. Trailing after Sanzo with Hakkai and Gojyo at his back, Goku didn't even blink when Jeep sailed right over his head, landing on the receptionist's counter just as Sanzo slapped down his card with a preemptive glare for the innkeeper.

"Two rooms," he snapped, "meals and baths included."

"For...for how long, your, uh, Your Holiness?" the man behind the counter stammered, wearing that pole-axed look people sometimes got around Sanzo, equal parts awe and surprise.

"Just put it on the tab."

When two keys were slid mutely across the counter, Sanzo snatched up one and settled a determined hand on Goku's shoulder, growling, "You're with me."

"Huh?" Goku practically yelped, because suspecting Sanzo was okay with him _daydreaming_ in no way implied Sanzo wanted to be there while he did it.

It made more sense when Sanzo ignored the innkeeper's faint squeak of moral outrage to turn a serious glare on Hakkai, saying, "And the dragon stays with you. I don't care what you three do, but we're not leaving until you work it out."

Oh. Well, of course.

It was somehow easier to follow Sanzo up to the room when he knew it had nothing to do with him, that Sanzo probably wasn't even thinking about the embarrassing situation they were in. Even if Sanzo didn't mind, it was still embarrassing, even if he didn't quite have the words to explain why. He just knew it was a relief when Sanzo paused barely long enough to get the door open, snarled at him to leave their things, and waited impatiently in the hall for Goku to scurry out again so he could lock the door behind them. They were heading down the back stairs before Goku quite realized what was going on, but he followed anyway, because it was Sanzo.

"Uh...are we going somewhere?"

"You're hungry, aren't you?" Sanzo asked, staring straight ahead.

He was. He just hadn't noticed until Sanzo said something.

"Then unless you want to starve, don't argue."

"All right," he said complacently, fighting not to grin.

The restaurant Sanzo found was only a few minutes' walk from the inn, and though they could have stayed to eat in the common room, Goku got the feeling Sanzo was trying to put some distance between them and the rest of their party. It was probably for the best; Jeep had been getting way too attached to Sanzo, and it was just about time Hakkai got himself back in the dragon's good graces.

Conversation faltered when they swept in--it was the robe, of course; Sanzo hadn't even pulled his fan out yet, much less his gun--but the noise picked up again after a moment, only a little quieter than before. Ignoring the sidelong looks of their fellow diners, Sanzo led the way to a table in the corner, giving them each a wall to put at their backs. Once seated, he drummed his fingers lightly on the tabletop, obvious irritation in the thin line of his mouth, the stiff set of his shoulders. Maybe that was what made the waiter look so nervous as the man cringed up to their table, bowing with jerky deference.

And maybe that was just the robe, too.

"Ah...Holy One...what...that is, I'm not sure we have--"

"Bring whatever he wants," Sanzo interrupted coolly, tilting his head in Goku's direction. "And a beer."

Whatever he wanted? Goku beamed, tugging a menu out of the surprised waiter's hands. "Oh! Then I want the house special. And some spicy noodles. And the fish. And some meat buns! Does the soup come in large?"

"Er...yes?"

"And a large order of soup. With two bowls," he added, thinking that Sanzo might want some. "And...um, I think that's all," he said, not daring to check Sanzo's expression, though he was a little amazed himself. The steak had sounded really good, and he hadn't even ordered dessert.

The waiter didn't seem to realize what a monumental act of willpower he'd witnessed, just stumbled off looking dazed and scandalized as Sanzo lit up a cigarette with a scowl. Goku almost called the man back, realizing Sanzo hadn't ordered yet, then realized he _had_...just not food.

"You should eat something," Goku said. Sanzo was too thin as it was.

"Not hungry."

That wasn't a surprise; Sanzo was _never_ hungry.

"You can have some of mine," Goku offered, squirming a little as Sanzo arched a skeptical brow at him.

"Did you get hit on the head out there?"

"No. I just think you ought to eat." That earned him a narrow-eyed look, but Sanzo didn't snap the way he usually would over one of them trying to fuss over him.

"Just be glad I feed you."

Goku opened his mouth and closed it again. Clearly he'd been hanging out with Gojyo too much, because he was finding it all too easy to hear the _metaphor_ in that. It wasn't like he could help being hungry, and Sanzo always took care of him.

"You...you don't have to, you know," he heard himself say, oddly diffident.

"Now I know you got hit."

_"Sanzo...."_ He was being serious.

So, apparently, was Sanzo.

"Don't talk nonsense, monkey," Sanzo said, holding his eyes intently. "When have you ever known me to do something I didn't want to do?"

And that was so close to what he'd thought he'd figured out--to what he'd hoped to hear--he couldn't help grinning.

**22\. empty nest**

It had been odd to sit down at a table without Sanzo daring the servers with a look to comment on his order, without Goku chattering amiably as he put away enough to feed a village family for a week. Though Gojyo had proclaimed--loudly--that he liked not having to defend his dinner from hungry monkeys or his head from gun-happy priests, Hakkai knew better. Gojyo tended to pick at his food without Goku to inspire him to stop playing with it and _eat,_ and no meal was truly complete without a bit of verbal sparring to add spice to the occasion.

The food itself had been remarkable, but dinner had been, on the whole, disappointing.

Preceding Hakkai into the room, Gojyo shook his head and threw himself down on the bed closest to the window, sitting up against the headboard and lacing his hands across his stomach. "Okay," he said, "I give up. What are those two up to?"

"I'm not sure," Hakkai admitted, closing the door behind them as Hakuryuu glided past to perch neatly on the windowsill. "Goku seems preoccupied these days, don't you think?"

"Sure...if by preoccupied you mean kicking ass like he's grown a foot."

Hakkai started as an idea took shape, unexpected but far too reasonable. He knew Gojyo had been referring to Goku's taller, oddly older, more powerful form when his limiter was removed, but perhaps Gojyo had been more correct than he knew.

"Hakkai?"

"Hm. I was just wondering if our little boy is growing up."

Gojyo stared for a moment, the possibilities not lost on him. "You mean he was fighting like that because he was _frustrated?"_

Hakkai smiled as Gojyo burst into near-hysterical laughter. "It's a thought...although I'm not sure how to explain Sanzo."

"S--san...oh, fuck," Gojyo managed breathlessly, holding on to his stomach, tears in his eyes. "Well...if Goku's what's been eating him, I'd say it's about time."

Hakkai coughed into his fist, composing his face with an effort. "Indeed. But I do wonder...." Goku had been perfectly fine with the way things were even a week ago. There had to have been some catalyst to have set things in motion, but their days had been largely unremarkable: the same long hours of driving, the same youkai hordes, the same anonymous hotel rooms...and one devious dragon up to no good. Was this what Hakuryuu had been planning all along?

"Hakkai?"

The dragon was still sitting at the window, but huddled in on himself, neck drooping as he stared wistfully out at the street below.

"Oh, dear. Hakuryuu?"

"Kyuu?"

"You weren't _really_ flirting with Sanzo, were you?"

_"What?"_

The look Hakuryuu turned on him was arch, almost defiant-- _so what if I was?_ \--and Hakkai shook his head in commiseration.

"I did warn you." Not only was Goku inclined to be possessive, Sanzo in his own way was the same.

The little dragon sniffed and turned pointedly away, and Hakkai buried a smile as he crossed the room to stroke a comforting hand down Jeep's back, careful of the wings. It only took a moment for the dragon to uncurl himself from his brooding crouch and twine his way into Hakkai's arms. As Hakkai turned away from the window, he surprised a look of mild alarm on Gojyo's face, but only for a moment. With a resigned huff of laughter and a good-natured quirk of his lips, Gojyo patted the mattress next to him and didn't complain about what might--or might _not_ \--have been shelved in favor of cheering up a friend.

"C'mere, you two."

Smiling faintly, Hakkai sat down beside the other man, stretching out his own legs, Hakuryuu still in his arms. Gojyo didn't even tease, just reached over and ran his hand down the sleek curl of Hakyruu's neck, petting the dragon like a cat.

Far from resenting the liberty taken, Jeep sighed a few trilling purrs, draping his neck over Hakkai's arm and letting his people pamper him to their hearts' content.

**23\. down to sleep**

The monkey was still working on his dinner as Sanzo added a third empty bottle to the small collection he was starting, but he didn't intend to hurry Goku along. If those other two idiots had any sense at all, they'd be busy peeling grapes for the dragon right about now, and Sanzo wasn't about to distract them. Personally, in a choice between the kappa and the dragon, he'd have picked the dragon, but he supposed there was no accounting for taste.

And anyway, one monkey was already more than enough to keep anyone busy.

Though he'd told himself it was his imagination before, there was definitely something wrong with Goku. It wasn't just that he was eating at a reasonable pace for once, wasn't babbling about everything and nothing; he kept trying to _feed_ Sanzo, who'd been so surprised the first time that he found himself picking at a meat bun and letting a bowl of soup go cold at his elbow. Which was bad enough, but he drew the line absolutely when Goku came at him with chopsticks, offering a bite of grilled fish with a pleading, hopeful stare.

Scowling again at the memory, he had to wonder whether Goku honestly hadn't realized what that would look like. If so, he was the only one; the stuffy old man at the next table over had nearly asphyxiated in shock before his wife tried to finish the job with a well-placed thump on the back that had him face-down in the soup. She'd been cackling under her breath at the time, and Sanzo didn't think he liked the appreciative glint in the old granny's eyes _at all,_ but Goku had just blinked at him innocently and wiggled his chopsticks like he was fishing for priests.

Which wasn't a thought he wanted to have while he was sitting right across from the fisherman in question. Deciding another beer couldn't possibly hurt, Sanzo started looking around for their waiter. He was all but convinced the man was hiding from him, but whether that was from prudishness or cowardice was anyone's guess.

"Erm. There's still some--"

"Eat your own food," Sanzo cut him off without looking his way, "or we're leaving."

"But Sanzo...."

"And no takeout."

"All right, all right. You don't have to be _mean_ about it."

Despite Sanzo's threat, Goku took with him a large packet of leftovers when they left, nibbling happily all the way back to the hotel. At least one of them was content. Sanzo still felt edgy. He'd meant to interrogate Goku over dinner, find out what was troubling him, but somehow he'd just...let it go. It couldn't be anything too terrible; he would have heard it otherwise, the way he always seemed to hear Goku when Goku really needed something.

His hands clenched reflexively at the thought, but they relaxed after a moment, the anger and resentment he'd been expecting refusing to come. It ought to annoy him--"holding nothing" was supposed to go both ways--but on a certain level, Goku just couldn't help it. Food was one thing, his occasional badgering for attention and approval another, but all that stayed neatly wrapped up inside Goku's own head. The really important things--the things Sanzo couldn't have ignored if he'd wanted to--were as genuine and unconsidered as thirst or breath. It wasn't like he could tell Goku to stop _breathing._

Well...he could, but it wouldn't get him very far. It was less trouble to just give in.

The common room was empty when they returned, and Sanzo led the way upstairs with a touch of smug satisfaction, a freshly-printed paper under one arm and a promise from the kitchen that coffee wouldn't be long in coming secured on the way. Even Goku's worrying silence at his back couldn't dampen his mood entirely, though if it went on much longer, he might have to do something drastic. It wasn't like Goku to keep things from him...and that wasn't hypocrisy; it was looking out for someone who was maybe always going to be younger than he looked, because if traveling all this time with someone like Gojyo hadn't left Goku at least a little bit curious as to what the fuss was all about, Sanzo couldn't imagine what would.

"Um...you're going to stay up and read?" Goku asked as they made it to the room.

"Yes." In fact, if the coffee would just get here already, he planned to stay up most of the night. No more weird dreams. Not with Goku in the next bed over. If Gojyo hadn't managed to corrupt the monkey for all his trying, Sanzo wasn't going to be the one to do it by accident.

"Oh. Then I guess I'll turn in."

"Hn."

"'Night, Sanzo."

Goku seemed satisfied by the curt nod he received in return, though there was something odd about his smile as he started to get undressed. Sanzo picked up his paper with a snort, snapping it open in front of him like a shield. He didn't listen for the sound of shoulder armor being set aside, for the grate of a zipper or the twin thuds of shoes hitting the floor; it was just that he couldn't help hearing it. The rustle of sheets and the creak of springs accompanied Goku's nightly ritual of squirming around for the perfect spot, and Sanzo knew without looking that when the shifting finally stopped, Goku had ended up on his side, face turned as always towards him.

He'd almost forgotten his request for coffee by the time Goku settled in to sleep, and the polite rap on the door nearly startled him into jumping from his seat. Dropping his paper with an irritated sigh, he stood and strode to the door without looking once at the occupied bed, not bothering to be quiet. Goku could sleep through anything, after all; otherwise there'd be more of a fuss about the light left burning, his page-turning and occasional bursts of invective against idiot reporters and so-called eye witnesses. They only made the news, he reminded himself grimly; they didn't get to choose how it was spun.

The girl who brought him the coffee had brought two cups, and she looked surprised to find him the only one awake. Sanzo gave her a hard, flat stare that brought color to her cheeks, dark eyes dropping contritely, and fuck, that was worse. So what if she'd been thinking it? The monk and the monkey. Glaring at her didn't change the fact that he'd been thinking it too.

He took the tray and shut the door more calmly than he might have, returning to the little table by the window where he'd left his paper. Tired as he was, he took great satisfaction in pouring a cup full to the brim, leaving no room for milk or sugar or any of that useless crap. The little he'd eaten for dinner wasn't going to do much to soak up the bitterness, and his stomach twinged reflexively as he took the first sip.

Brows arching, he took another taste without lowering the cup, reluctantly impressed. It was good, better than he'd had in a while, and he wondered whether this town just had superior coffee or if the kitchen had made a special effort because of the robe. Either way, he wasn't going to second-guess good coffee.

A muffled hum and some restless shifting from the room's second bed dragged his eyes away from the minor miracle in his cup, but Goku's eyes were still closed, his face lax with genuine sleep. _Dreaming,_ Sanzo decided, sternly returning his thoughts and gaze to the paper. The front page was mostly panicked headlines designed to sell more copy, and he skimmed over it with a humorless smirk. Some days he wondered why they didn't just splash "The End Is Near" in huge letters across the page, but he supposed people would get tired of looking at the same headline day after day.

Across the room, Goku whimpered very softly as he twitched in his sleep, one hand groping across the sheets now and then as if searching for something, but it was otherwise quiet. Just the turning of the pages, the soft clink of china to keep Sanzo company.

It felt like hours before the words began to blur before Sanzo's eyes, though he doubted it'd been quite two. The coffee pot was empty, the dregs cold by the time he'd poured his last cup, which sat now by his elbow, still half-full. He'd made it to the back pages of the paper, at least, skimming brief blocks of text bearing news from other towns, clearly written by someone less excitable than the person responsible for the front page. An important wedding, an important funeral, some noise about a fair if the recent drop in youkai activity held. A town a few days back was celebrating the mysterious end to its own youkai problem, and Sanzo snorted softly, resisting the urge to roll his eyes heavenward. At least no one had spotted them--or if they had been seen, at least no one had connected them to the youkai extermination. That was the last thing they needed: to be earmarked as saviors. People started expecting things out of you when you were tarred with the hero brush, and they had enough on their plates already.

He was folding the paper up with a sigh as Goku muttered something urgent in his sleep, too softly to hear over the rustle of newsprint. It was probably nothing, nothing worth worrying about...but he glanced over anyway and found Goku looking miserable but uncomplaining, something only Goku could pull off in a way that didn't set his teeth on edge. Goku looked very small curled up like that, but not younger. Just oddly defeated.

Frowning as his mouth pulled tight, he found himself wondering what Goku could be dreaming to make him look like that. The cave, maybe? Not likely; he always felt those, the echoes of Goku's panic and desperation, the loneliness yawning open like a chasm. When those dreams came, he had to track Goku down wherever he'd fallen asleep and poke him awake, not because he didn't think Goku could handle a few nightmares, but because seven years was long enough to have to hear that yammering in his head, and he'd _fixed_ that already. Going backwards wasn't an option.

Those were the worst ones, usually. But sometimes--like now, watching Goku's empty hand creep less and less hopefully across empty space--he wondered what Goku might be dreaming that he _didn't_ catch, why some things got through and others didn't.

Scowling at himself, he pinched the bridge of his nose hard, blinking tired, scratchy eyes. He had to admit, this was probably not the best idea he'd ever had, and the gods help any youkai suicidal enough to get in his way if it turned out the dragon had been placated enough to get back on the road, assuming he wasn't tired enough to be off his game entirely. On the other hand, he was probably too tired at this point to dream much of anything, so in that, at least, he'd succeeded.

The untouched bed looked very comfortable, very inviting, and Goku was fast asleep, dead to the world for all his tossing and turning. Staying up now wouldn't accomplish anything.

"It'd make me _feel_ better," he muttered, but no one was listening, not even him.

He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow.

**24\. before I wake**

It was one thing to dream and know you were dreaming; it was another thing to dream and know it wasn't the dream you were expecting. For one thing, there was no Sanzo. And...that was about it, really. The room was there, the twin beds, the weathered little table by the window and the moon through the open curtains, but no Sanzo, for the first time since the dreams had started.

Goku sat down patiently to wait, but after what felt like at least a year, he started to get the feeling that it just wasn't going to happen this time.

Drawing his knees up to his chest, he wrapped his arms around his legs and tried quietly not to panic. What could have gone wrong? Had he broken something somehow? Maybe he was just trying too hard, like Sanzo had said, or maybe it was the _look_ Sanzo had given him when he'd wished the man a good night: weighing and intent, impossible to read. It was the kind of look that ought to be scary, and maybe it even was, but not in the kind of way that made him want to cover his head or duck. It was the good kind of scary, the kind that made him turn his back while he scrambled out of his clothes, incredibly self-conscious and completely certain that Sanzo wouldn't want to know that his scary look had just gotten Goku _hard,_ because....

He didn't know why Sanzo was letting him do this, letting him _want_ him when Sanzo didn't want him back, why Sanzo hadn't just come right out and told him not to be an idiot because it wasn't ever going to happen. Deep down, Goku supposed he'd known that already; otherwise, he wouldn't be dreaming of an empty room, no Sanzo, just--

The dip of the mattress at his back, the click of a lighter but no inhale, just a sudden, heavy silence.

He looked over his shoulder because he couldn't not look, and there was Sanzo, stripped down to his jeans and sitting up against the headboard with an unlit cigarette between his lips, hands cupped around his lighter as if he'd forgotten what he was doing halfway through. Sanzo looked surprised, or maybe surprised that he wasn't surprised, or maybe completely _un_ surprised but totally resigned, in that 'oh, so we're going over the cliff, then' way he got sometimes when things didn't go as planned.

Which was a really weird way to start a dream, but Goku wasn't going to complain. He'd take whatever bits of Sanzo he could get.

"Fuck," Sanzo muttered, but he didn't finish lighting up. He let the small flame die instead, plucking the cigarette from his mouth and dumping both lighter and smoke in the unused ashtray on the little table beside the bed. He looked tired, almost too tired to be irritated, and Goku guiltily hoped that wouldn't change, because now that he thought about it, all his other dreams had picked up in the _middle,_ so to speak, and he had no idea how to start one without getting Sanzo mad at him.

On the other hand, watching Sanzo clench his eyes shut and bang his head back against the wall in pure frustration a few times wasn't much better.

"Um...Sanzo?" he tried, turning around and hesitantly reaching for the other man's shoulder. "Don't--doesn't that--"

Sanzo froze when Goku's fingers skimmed his shoulder, bare skin warm despite the chill in the air. When his eyes opened, they fixed on Goku with that same, shivery intensity, fierce and glittering, and Goku would have snatched his hand away if he could remember how to work his limbs in the first place. Sanzo looked like he was at his limit, only it wasn't any kind of limit Goku had ever seen before, and he didn't quite know what to do with it. He just knew that he liked it when Sanzo looked at him like that. He liked it a lot. _Really_ a lot.

"Sanzo...?"

He hadn't expected Sanzo to reach out and hook a hand at the back of his neck, or to be reeled in by an insistent tug that nearly tumbled him into Sanzo's lap. He managed to catch himself, just barely--ended up more on his hands than his knees--but he didn't land on anything important, and Sanzo didn't seem to notice his clumsiness at all. Goku stopped worrying about it entirely when Sanzo's hand slid into his hair, because then Sanzo was kissing him, and if he'd thought Sanzo had kissed him before? Boy, had _he_ been wrong.

There was no hesitation in Sanzo this time, no reluctance at all as he left Goku moaning shamelessly, breathless. The stroke of his tongue and the heat of his mouth distracted Goku from the hand fisting hard in his hair, but he had just enough sense to note that he wasn't being pulled away this time; Sanzo's hands were anchoring him there.

And oh gods, Sanzo's _hands_ \--tracing his spine, dragging blunt nails ticklishly over the muscles of his stomach, tugging at his hair until he dropped his head back and left his throat bare for Sanzo's mouth.

"Hn," he managed dazedly, trying to help as his sleep pants were shoved down but mostly squirming to no purpose whatsoever. It was hard to work out which way was up or down, because-- _oh_ \--because Sanzo was rolling them over, settling over him, solid and demanding. Washed soft as cotton, the heavy denim of Sanzo's jeans was just this side of bearable against his too-sensitive cock as Goku bucked up under him, but if he tried to get Sanzo out of them, he'd first have to stop moving, and he wasn't sure he could. Even feeling Sanzo's trapped hardness grinding against him couldn't convince him to slow, though he nearly changed his mind when Sanzo began matching his thrusts, not holding back at all. Which was fine by him. He liked being unbreakable for Sanzo, liked it enough that he didn't mind when Sanzo knocked his hand away when he tried to fumble Sanzo's belt open, enough to give in and rock up into Sanzo's comfortable weight and too-lean strength and come hard enough he was surprised he didn't wake up on the spot or roll out of bed, or both.

Panting through the stupidest grin he was sure he'd ever worn in his life, he blinked up to find Sanzo still looming over him, watching him with that same feral intensity. It should have been embarrassing, but Sanzo looked pleased, almost smug, though it wasn't lost on Goku that Sanzo was still hard. That didn't seem fair at all, and Goku shifted, trying to work out what to say that wouldn't sound stupid, and heard himself whimper as his cock scraped against denim again.

It must have sounded like an invitation, because Sanzo leaned down to kiss him, slower this time but more thorough. So that was all right.

"Sanzo," he groaned as his mouth was freed at last, some dim memory of things not being quite _right_ belatedly beginning to surface. "Hey, Sanzo. Is this okay?"

Sanzo growled and lifted his head, eyes glittering with impatience. "Don't ask me stupid questions when I'm dreaming," he said, dipping his head again to explore the line of Goku's collarbone.

_Right,_ Goku nearly said, _sorry._ Because if Sanzo thought it was stupid, then clearly there was nothing to worry--

Wait. "You're dreaming?" he asked, his stomach going cold, a possibility he'd never even considered before knocking at the back of his thoughts. He wondered if this was what people meant by an epiphany, and it was wonderful and terrible at once, because...both of them dreaming? At the _same time?_

Sanzo _bit_ him, sharp and warning. "Didn't I tell you not to ask me stupid questions?"

"Yeah, but...." _Gonna shoot me, he is seriously going to shoot me,_ one part of him started babbling for the second time that week, but he pushed it firmly down. "I mean...." _Oh my gods, I've been dreaming **with Sanzo?**_ The smart thing to do would be to leave it at that, slink off in the morning and never think of it again, but he couldn't do that. And he just had to know. "If it's...if it's okay _now_...why not-- _ow!_ \--when we're awake?"

Sanzo didn't bite him a third time. Levering himself up slightly, Sanzo braced himself on his hands and glared down for an achingly long moment, things moving behind his eyes that Goku didn't understand at all. "Because," Sanzo said at last, "you're not going anywhere in a dream. And if you try it, I'll wake the fuck up."

"Oh." That actually made sense. Not good sense, but Sanzo sense, which was a lot more difficult to argue with. There was only one thing wrong with it. "But Sanzo...I'm not going anywhere anyway. So, um...you know...if you wanted to wake up now, we could...uh...Sanzo?"

**25\. soul to keep**

Staring down at Goku's earnest, too-reasonable expression, Sanzo went very still, hearing both what Goku was saying and what he was _not_ saying. What Goku had, in fact, not been saying since the day everything stopped making sense. Or--no, he had that wrong, because Goku had practically been shouting from the rooftops, and Sanzo had heard him, just like he always did. Just not with his ears.

Eyes narrowing, he curled his fingers into fists on the sheets but didn't otherwise move. "You...."

"You said it was okay," Goku interrupted quickly, eyes searching his with growing alarm. "You _said._ "

The dreams. Those weird moments on the road, at the table. The fucking _cake._ And yeah, he _had_ said it was fine, because he hadn't known what he was agreeing to, had he? And Goku--

Hadn't said a word. Hadn't asked for anything, content with what he thought he'd been allowed, despite thinking Sanzo was bastard enough to ignore that stupid, hungry, helpless voice that only he could hear.

"Um. Are you...?"

"I'm waking up now," Sanzo said, and just like that, it was true.

He was rolling out of bed before he'd quite gotten his eyes open, on his feet and crossing the space between their beds before Goku could do more than jerk awake. For a moment Goku looked torn between terror and apology, but then he just looked lost as Sanzo ripped the blankets off and climbed in on top of him, pinning his wrists down with both hands.

"I'm holding you to that," Sanzo growled, holding Goku's startled eyes until they widened abruptly as the monkey finally _got_ it. Of all the people to fixate inappropriately on, at least he'd picked the one least likely to die on him. And if Goku wasn't going to leave over _this,_ then he wasn't leaving at all. "Fuck it up, and you'll answer to me."

"Okay," Goku said simply, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth that refused to stop growing, even in the face of narrowed eyes and an impatient huff. Breakfast was going to be fucking awkward, he could already tell. He was definitely going to need more bullets.

He wanted to tell the monkey not to get cocky, that this didn't change as much as he thought, and that if he made the "oh my god, _cake_ " face in public again, Sanzo was going to shoot him. Twice.

Instead he sat up, glared Goku into silence, and started tugging his belt loose. At least he didn't have to worry about waking up in the middle this time, though it wouldn't surprise him in the slightest if fifty youkai assassins came crashing through the window instead.

As it happened, the assassins arrived two days later. But by then they were already on the road.

**26\. a departure**

When they screeched to a stop outside the first hotel they passed, the four passengers scrambled out as fast as they could, almost managing to make it look like a coordinated exit. Hakkai slid out with courteous speed, Sanzo stepping down with a cool "meant-to-do-that" look only those of the feline persuasion had ever perfected before, and Goku was already reaching for the baggage while Gojyo was vaulting over the side, nearly too late again but catching on quick. Hakuryuu transformed on the instant, a brownish-tan mud dragon too exhausted to do more than eye them mournfully before turning on a wingtip to sail through the nearest open window.

"Bath," Sanzo growled, stalking in after the dragon, and even Goku wasn't certain whether that was information or a direct order. He just knew he couldn't wait for the rainy season to be over, even if it did mean they got to sleep under a real roof more often. At least Sanzo was getting better about the _rain_ part; it was mostly the mud he objected to these days. And the mudslides. And the youkai attacks after the mudslides, in the rain, with nowhere dry to clean up afterwards. Even the robe was starting to look a bit tired, and that was saying something.

"Hm," Hakkai murmured, mouth twitching in a faint, tired smile. "Perhaps you'd better follow him, Goku. To make sure he doesn't fall asleep in there."

"Yeah--but if you can't cheer him up, let him drown," Gojyo muttered, brushing ineffectively at the now-powdery spatters that had dried on his coat sleeves. "Might improve his disposition."

Actually, Goku could think of something that would work much better, but he wasn't going to say so in front of Gojyo. Gojyo would probably try to give him pointers.

Heading upstairs to the inn's bathing room, he knocked on the door before he stuck his head inside with a grin. "Hey, Sanzo--is there water enough for two?"

"Three," Sanzo replied grudgingly, "if it matters."

That was all the invitation Goku needed. Slipping inside, he shut the door behind him, throwing the bolt automatically though he knew Sanzo would probably tell him not to get any ideas about playing in the water. It wasn't until he turned back around that he noticed something...unusual.

Sanzo was cuddling Hakuryuu again. And there was only one tub.

Goku blinked, but the scene before him didn't change. There was Hakuryuu, draped bonelessly across Sanzo's chest and trilling contentedly as he was sluiced clean, and there was Sanzo, watching him with narrowed eyes and a faint smirk, daring him to question. It was a very big tub, big enough to seat two--three if they were friends--and he supposed, just this once, that he wouldn't mind sharing with the dragon.

"Well?" Sanzo asked, a half-buried note of challenge in his voice. "You're not getting any cleaner."

Grinning hugely, Goku's hands began to fly.

**Author's Note:**

> The bit about the Uncannily White Robes of Sanzodom is actually from _Journey to the West_. Only without the cooing.


End file.
